The Seeley Booth Job
by Ivory Greed
Summary: What happens when the case from Leverage crosses with that from Bones? Elliot and Booth will square off for a fight, and . . . who will win?
1. The MarkThe Body

Disclaimer: Though I wish I did, I own nothing except the mark and a computer.

Authors note: This was a conglomeration of my bored mind at midnight as I watched Leverage and realized that if the team ever came across an intelligent FBI agent they would be in t-r-o-u-b-l-e! Enter Seeley Booth! Please read and review. If not I shall keep my writings to myself and my sister. (I _really_ want to share this story with you, please help me here!)

**Leverage**

**Chapter 1**

"Please, just trust me on this one," Nathan Ford held the door open for his grafter, "She seems to have a valid case, and isn't that what we are about? Helping the helpless?"

"I read the e-mail, Nate, from where I stand; the brother was into shady deals. It's no wonder he was killed." Sophie had been questioning Nate on this newest job ever since he had put her in the car and now that they were walking into the meeting place her warnings were flashing in her head. "Nate, this just doesn't feel right."

Nate laughed, "And did that come from your actress senses?" Of course he was being difficult on purpose, even as his eyes scanned for Bekka Carson, their client. The restaurant was busy during that lunch hour and Nate hoped that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Nate," Sophie put her hand on his elbow, "So, we're doing this?"

"Let's meet with her at least," at this point he had just caught sight of the woman in a corner booth , three glasses of water in front of her. "Bekka?" Nate slid in and shook her hand, "I'm Nathan Ford, and this is my associate Sophie Deveroux."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Sophie took the girls hand.

Nate watched them cautiously. "So, Bekka, what can we do to help you?"

Bekka Carson was a pretty woman, not skinny but cute, auburn hair and green eyes. Now those eyes were glistening with tears, "It's my brother; he disappeared four years ago. I contacted the police but," a tear slid down her cheek, "they said that, because of his record, he had run off. But I knew," she shook her head, "_they_ had him killed."

Nate took her hand, "Who had him killed?"

"Conan McGill, drug king pin on the North side. Willy and I got roped into his dealings eight years ago. We had just graduated high school when our parents died. McGill took us in, through a friend of Willy's. My brother became a drug mule a few years later." She looked to Nate and Sophie for confirmation of understanding. When they nodded, she continued, "This went fine until one day, four years ago, he came to me in a fit. He said that he was going to make a run for it and said that he would send for me. When weeks went by and he hadn't contacted me, I knew he was dead."

Nate made to comment but Sophie cut him off, "Why wait until now to seek retribution?"

She laughed solemnly, "I told the police but they would have none of it, they wouldn't even listen. I tried not to believe it myself until I heard on the news that a body was found in the basement of the Cardington hotel. The place was closed down five years ago and was used by McGill as a base of operations. He knew he had to keep the drugs out of his professional business. It has to be Willy! I just know it is! I heard that a Special Agent Booth is on the case but I can't reach out to him without McGill knowing."

"So," Nate asked, "You are still in McGill's operations."

"Yes, so you have to understand how important it is that our meeting is kept secret. I only want McGill to pay for what he has done to my family; Willy was all I had left. It's what you do, right? You pick up where the law leaves off? I need you to do _your_ kind of law keeping."

Nate and Sophie looked at each other, sharing an unspoken conference. After a subtle nod from the grafter, Nate shook Bekka's hand. "We'll take the job. And you can count on us; we'll help you bring down McGill."

**Bones**

**Chapter 1**

"I don't believe you!" Dr. Temperance Brennan shook her head as she pulled her bag from the FBI truck.

"Bones, hey, this is _me_ we're talking about, when have I ever lied to you?" Agent Seeley Booth had his hands in his pockets as he surveyed the condemned hotel that was their surroundings.

"Oh, I can think of a few." The doctor wasted no time in marching through the throng of police officers, flashing her ID.

Booth followed, "Why is it so hard for you to believe that my apartment is haunted?" He noticed with a smile that almost all of their assignments started with some sort of almost marital squabble.

"Well, based on physical fact, it is highly unlikely that, assuming that the human existence is more than on just the physical plane, any human would stay here after death merely to annoy a special agent." She had been led to the third floor via the stairs and they now stopped at room 318.

"You know, you'd do good to come to church with me." Okay, he didn't say this but he really wanted to. Instead, he opted for, "Are you saying I'm not worth it?" He turned to the officer that was obviously in charge, "What do we got here?"

"I don't know that's why we called in Dr. Brennan." The officer was tall, even more so than Booth, and his brown hair was hidden under a cowboy hat. Booth noticed irkedly that he was obviously coming on to Bones. "I read one of your books." He grinned a goofy, Texas grin.

"Yes, as have many people. How long has this building been deserted?" She was straddling the hole in the floorboards where the body was laying exposed. "Judging from the amount of bone exposed," in fact, most of the bones were exposed, with mold from the fleshy slush in a large pool around the bones, "I'd say TOD is at least a few years ago, maybe as many as six. The body is definitely male, around mid twenties. In its present location, I can't determine much more." She stood, "I want the body and all surrounding floor within a three meter radius shipped back to the Jeffersonian." She turned back to Booth, "I believe that our work is done right here, are you ready? I want to stop at Dairy Queen and get a 'DQ Burger'."

After they were gone their demands were followed and everything met them at the Jeffersonian.

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	2. Anatomy of a Con

Author's Note: Sorry for the short upload, I just wanted to get into the story. I have A LOT more written and I'll try to upload according to REVIEWS! I haven't been getting any and it has been quite irksome. I need ten before I continue! Please!

**Leverage**

**Chapter 2**

"Run it Hardison."

"Conan McGill, that's our mark. No police record, however, simply by using Google, and YouTube, you get a completely different story."

The Leverage Team were all sat in Nate's apartment, Elliot in his chair, a bowl of peanuts in his lap, with Parker, much to his chagrin, sitting on the arm of the chair. He understood her need for physical contact but he still found it annoying, especially during briefings when he just felt confined. Hardison sat on the couch with Sophie, controlling the computer screen and Nate stood off to the side as he always did.

"Wait," Elliot leaned forward, "did you just say 'McGill'?" If Parker didn't know any better she would have thought she saw him flinch.

Hardison read the name again, "Yeah, 'Conan McGill', why?"

"Nothing."

"Well, on that very strange note," Hardison continued, "He's been around for at least thirty, maybe forty years. Like I said, according to the police this guy's clean, but the police don't know everything."

"That's right! Whooo!" Parker cheered, then, noticing that no one else was following suite, shoved a handful of Elliot's peanuts in her mouth. (Elliot glared before passing her the rest of the bowl, which she refused, having already solved the "foot in mouth" problem.)

Hardison's mouth dropped, "What the . . . Parker?" No comment from the blonde. "Okay, now, if I could _finish_." He cleared his throat. "Other than the police and anyone that actually matters, this guy is dirty with a capital 'D'. There have even been multiple reports of disappearances around him, mostly locals a few from as far as China and Iraq.

"Word on the street is, this guy deals in everything from Cocaine, illegal dog and cock fights, even pirated videos," he laughed.

"Okay, how can we get in?" Nate asked.s

"Every year, McGill hosts a Honky-tonk and sumpmorother to honor the police and public officials who aid in his campaign and in keeping his name clean. And whoohoo, we're in luck," Hardison zoomed in on the date for the party, "looks like it's in three days."

Nate nodded, "Good, good. Hardison, can you get us invitations?"

Hardison typed vigorously on his keyboard for a minute, "Nope, sorry, Bro. It's sealed up tight."

Suddenly, though he had almost been forgotten since his earlier outburst, Elliot raised his hand, and was slightly pale.

"What is the problem, Elliot?" Nate felt almost like a teacher as the hitter was called out for the second time this briefing.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a problem . . ."

**Bones**

**Chapter 2**

"Um, Dr. Brennan," Wendell pointed to the (top, outside) part of the sixth rib bone he was looking at, "There seems to be a cut mark on this bone and a matching one on the fifth bone above it."

"Very good," Brennan only had to glance his way, "and would you say that would be fatal?"

Wendell looked at both bones again, "No, lack of red staining on the bones points to post-mortem."

Cam had just carded her way into the platform, "So you're saying he was stabbed, after he was dead? Wow, someone really wanted this guy to pay."

"That's not all, Cam," while Wendell and Cam were speaking, something on the floating ribs had caught Brennan's eye. On the right hand side, in the middle (bottom) side of the rib was a strange striae and a matching one toward the tip of the left. "He was cut open. I'm almost certain that something was taken from the thoracic cavity. If there was anything left, Dr. Hodgens should find it in the particulates' I –"

She was cut off as the bug-man skipped up behind her, "Cocaine." He had a huge smile on his face. To answer the questioning looks on his colleagues faced he rolled his eyes and clarified, "This guy's gut, the particulates you sent me; he was a mule!" He turned and made to leave, "King of the Lab!"

Brennan put down the bone she was working on and looked thoughtfully at the self-proclaimed King of the Lab, "Dr. Hodgens, I am sorry, but this man was indeed a human, not a mule. The most prominent difference being the shape of the skull and –" She was gesturing to the skull.

"No," he had to try hard not to laugh, "a drug mule."

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	3. Southern Bells

(Authors Note: thank you to everyone who reviewed! )

Leverage

Chapter 3

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a problem . . ." Just the tone in Elliot's voice worried Nate.

Four years ago, Texas

"Honey, I can take you anywhere you want," Elliot was in the bedroom of a young Texas girl named MaryLee McGill and the two of them were very much naked and involved in intimate and immoral acts.

"Really?" Before MaryLee could name her place, the bedroom door burst open and Daddy McGill, flanked by three huge guards, stormed in.

"MARYLEE!" . . .

Elliot shook his head and then returned to flashback mode.

Elliot was tied to a chair, naked, in the bottom floor of the abandoned hotel that McGill used for his dirty business. Various cuts and bruises adorned his face and arms and his right hand had been smashed. As if that wasn't bad enough, he also clearly remembered McGill coming at him with some kind of knife and pliers . . .

A chill ran down Elliot's spine as he rubbed his hand and sent up a silent "thanks" that he had made it out of there in one piece. "Yeah, we're going to have a problem with that," he hissed through his teeth.

"You slept with his daughter? And were actually in the hotel at the time of the murder?! Elliot, why didn't you say something sooner," Nate was almost red in the face as he shouted at the hitter. Elliot, in turn was actually afraid of Nate.

"Nate, can't we speak rationally about this?" Sophie stepped in between them. (Parker could have sworn that she saw Elliot step behind Sophie but she wasn't going to say anything. Instead she moved over to the couch and offered Hardison peanuts.) "It isn't like he really had a choice, and anyway, it's been four years, how was he supposed to know that something that long ago would matter now . . ." she paused and then turned to Elliot, "And just how many more women of consequence have you slept with?"

Elliot shrugged and smiled roguishly, he wasn't going to tell her anything.

Bones

Chapter 3

"We're in luck!" The agent who was helping Booth with the case typed on one final key, "I ran a search on the prints you gave me from the CD in the vic's bag. And I got a hit, and a mug shot." After he hit the key a photo came up: not a flattering one, but a photo none the less. "Um, Elliot Spencer; looks like he the whole world out looking for him, Australia, Myanmar, there's a whole list here."

"Spencer?" the name rang a bell for Booth but he just couldn't put his finger on it. He made to leave without a "thank you" but the man stopped him.

"You're welcome!"

"What? Oh, um, thanks." Back in his "office" Booth placed a call to the office. "Hey, Jack, this is Agent Seeley Booth, I'm here in Texas. Yeah, could you run a check on Elliot Spencer? . . . Yes they have equipment here . . . no. Just do it okay!" He hung up and then sighed, feeling bad for being so short with Jack.

"Booth?" Brennan knocked on the door, "You drove me here, but there is nothing else I can do right now. The man," she pointed down the hall to where the coroner's office was, "is not as good with bones as he claims to be." Though the bones of Willy Carson were at the Jeffersonian, Brennan, bored, had ensconced herself in the autopsy room where another set of skeletal remains was being investigated.

"Okay, Bones," he looked around, "I guess they'll call me after they run the name." Taking the keys, he skipped around the desk and he and Bones left the police station.

"FBI?" The pair was stopped just outside the door by an older gentleman. He was average height, gray hair and mustache and he wore a nice, Texas-style grey suite and felt hat. "I thought that I recognized your suite." The man held out his hand to Booth, "Conan McGill; so what is it that brings you to my fair city?" His eyes fell on Brennan, "Ah, Temperance Brennan, I've read your book."

"Yes," Brennan offered her hand to be shaken but, instead it was kissed, "many people have read my books."

McGill chuckled as he released her hand, "I'm sure they have. Since the two of you are here (Agent Seeley Booth, I presume, I have heard that you were the one working with Miss. Brennan) you must be on the Willy Carson case." He saw that they seemed surprised. "Oh, news travels fast in a small town like this, I assure you Agent Booth. I assume that you have found something out?"

The man seemed friendly enough but years of working with people told Booth that he should still be on his guard. "Yes, we have, but we can't –"

"Discuss an ongoing investigation. I am sorry Agent Booth, I should have remembered." He smiled in that Texas-grandpa way. "Well, since you are here, perhaps you would be interested in coming to our ball on Saturday? It is just my way of thanking the police force for all of the good work they have done over the years. It would be an honor if you would join us."

"Of course!" Booth was surprised to hear the comment from Brennan. "We would love to!"

McGill seemed just as surprised at the outburst but smiled and nodded, "Okay then, here is the address," he produced a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to the bouncing Brennan, "I look forward to seeing you then. I am sorry to have to leave so fast, I am expected at a deposition." With one final handshake, he finished entering the station.

"What was that Bones?" Now that McGill was gone he turned to Brennan, who was reading the card.

"Undercover, Booth! We may get some more information on the case."

Booth couldn't help but laugh, "Okay Bones, do you have a dress here?" He took her arm in his and they walked together to his rented truck.

(Well, I hoped that you like this chapter, the next one will be MUCH longer, the teams will finally come together and Booth and Elliot will finally have their fight. KEEP REVIEWING! The faster I get reviews the faster I will feel led to update!)


	4. Showdown in Cowtown

Before my typical "Author's Note" I want to thank everyone who added me to their updates, now I hope that more of you will REVIEW!

This chapter is to celebrate the FORT WORTH TEXAS BLIZZARD! Hells yeahs!

Author's Note: This is going to be a much longer chapter. FINALLY! Our characters can come together for some fun. Old friends and new friends meet and we'll see who could win in a fight between a trained Military sniper and a skilled hitter. Enjoy the fun and REVIEW!!!

(P.S: look for a reoccurring theme here. Tell me if you get it! As always: REVIEW!!!)

**Chapter 4**

**Leverage Hotel: 1:30 p.m.**

"Elliot, I want you to keep you head low, it would be too hard to have you sneaking around the complex so you'll be at the party with us. As soon as Parker gets McGill's phone, codes and whatever else she can lift off of him, the two of you will be getting out of there to find what we need. Anything that could put the hurt on our Dear Conan McGill. Any questions?"

Elliot didn't like this plan.

Parker loved it.

Hardison was excited about the new monitor he had bought for the van so that he could play Tetris.

**Broom Closet at the Precinct: 2:00 p.m.**

"Found it!" Wendell rapped his knuckles on the edge of the forensic table where the poor deceased Mr. Carson lay.

"What did you find?" Dr. Brennan looked up at the computer screen. She was video chatting with Wendell as he went over the body again (they had yet to find cause of death), after having spent the better part of the morning shopping. The sales lady gave them a lot of attention when she found out that Booth and Brennan weren't a couple. Even though, Brennan noticed with mild confusion, after that she did end up spending a lot of time ogling after the agent. Booth spurred her advances, turning them back to Bones as she tried on dress after dress. Finally, she settled on a very flattering number and they went back to the prescient where she was right now, in Booth's "office". And then spent the rest of the time going over old surveillance films that Booths men had found on the hotel. They showed Elliot Spencer and Willy.

"Cause of death," Wendell was so excited he was almost shaking. "Actually, I don't know how you missed it to begin with," he chuckled, then caught Brennan's eye, "I am sorry Dr. Brennan, I did not mean to hint that you could have missed anything . . . "

Booth, who was sitting on the other side of the computer with his feet propped up on the desk, shook his head and laughed, "Stop digging Wendell."

Wendell was surprised by Booth's voice, "Yes sir Agent Booth."

Brennan's eyes never left the screen, "You were saying? Cause of death?"

"Yes, right," Wendell cleared his throat and picked up the left scapula, "while the beatings didn't help him any, what actually killed him was a gun shot." He held up the scapula to the web cam, "Here, on the anterior aspect, you can just see a scrape. I'll send you the x-rays and a close up of the area."

The pictures popped up on the laptop. "Wow," Brennan said, "I did not see that. How did you determine that was a bullet? And why were there no other scrapes?"

Wendell put down the bone just as Hodgen's stepped in front of him. "That was me; I took some swabs off of the scrape and found remnants of a bullet casing. I couldn't pull any stria or identify any caliber, but I can tell you that it was a unique mixture of metals, definitely a custom job."

As he left the screen, Angela stepped in, "And as for your second question, here's my simulation." A scene popped up on the screen. "Here is Mr. Carson," an animated Carson came into the scene. "Now the only way for the bullet to scrape the scapula and nothing else is like this." Another animated mannequin, the "bad guy", was on his knees in front of Carson, gun pressed at the bottom of his ribcage. When the gun went off, the bullet went through Carson's torso and out the top of his shoulder.

Booth had come around for this, "Wow that sucks."

"Thank you," Brenan said, "I concur; that is plausible. Continue cataloguing his injuries Wendell." With that, she logged off and shut the computer, sliding it into her bag. "That is a relief. Now we can focus on tonight."

Booth shook his head with a smirk as she all but bounded out of the office. He really doubted that her excitement over the party was due to the opportunity to gather evidence.

'Great,' he thought, 'it's the circus all over again.' He crossed his fingers and hoped that he wouldn't hurt her eye again . . . or have to throw knives at her.

**McGill Ballroom: 6:17 p.m.**

The room had at least two hundred people in it when Nate, with Sophie on his arm, Elliot, looking cautiously over his shoulder (yeah, he remembered this room . . . well . . . ) and a waitress that looked a lot like Parker entered, a great deal of space between them.

"Does anyone see McGill?" Nate hissed.

"All clear here," Elliot said. He intended to make another comment but was sidetracked by a familiar red-head. (Okay, any red hair he had seen that night made the hair on is neck stand up, so he didn't bring up this newest spook. Instead he turned and walked away.)

"I do," this was Parker, "but I can't get close enough, he's in a group of cops."

"Okay Parker," Nate led Sophie to the dance floor to blend in, "don't get caught hanging around; walk around until he's more alone."

A slight wine reached everyone's comms . . .

(Authors Note: yeah, I know, "Tara is with the crew now!" I don't like her so, after profuse, and tear filled apologies on both sides Sophie was welcomed back into the group with open arms even as Elliot chunked Tara out of the window. Problem solved. And now after that brief interlude . . . ON WITH THE SHOW!)

"Elliot?" One of the women at the party paused in her conversation and turned to face Elliot, who was doing his best to stay hidden. "Elliot Spencer? Is that you?" The woman's smile was big and bright and her red curls were piled up onto her head. She had slimmed down some in the years since Elliot had last seen her but he recognized her in an instant. "Remember, it's me, MaryLee."

"Elliot?" Nate's voice was loud in the hitter's ear, "What is going on?"

"We got trouble," he hissed before MaryLee caught him. Seeing he couldn't escape, he turned to her and looked surprised, "Oh my God!" He laughed, "MaryLee, I haven't seen you in –"

"Four years," she blushed and scratched her head, "yeah, when Daddy dragged you out of my room. Sorry about that, how's your hand?"

Hardison already had MaryLee McGill's bio pulled up in the van. "Man, Elliot, she is hott. Way to go boy!"

"Hardison, you aren't helping," Sophie was watching Elliot and the woman and had to agree that she was lovely.

"Okay, Elliot, see if she knows anything, and be subtle." Nate refused a glass of champagne (earning an appreciative nod from Sophie) from a Parker/waitress and took a glass of water.

Elliot, after a fervid glance around for "Daddy Dearest", took two champagne glasses from the Parker/waitress and handed one to the woman, "I've recovered. How did you get off?"

Across the room, actually, right next to Nate but completely absorbed in his own conversation with the beautiful woman on his arm, was Agent Seeley Booth. "Listen Bones, over half of the people in her work directly for McGill and because he's the one who's footing the bill for this party, we want to be sure to stay on their good sides. You remember the faces we are looking for?"

Bones, looking smashing in her clingy violet dress, nodded and looked around. "Elliot Spencer, right?"

"Yes. Thank you," Booth took the glass of champagne the cute blonde waitress offered him. "Why?"

"Because he's right there," Bones pointed after the blonde who was passing drinks to a red-headed woman and a ruggedly handsome man whose, though his back was to her, stance and posture matched that which she had seen in the surveillance footage. "That's him."

Booth quickly sat down his glass, "Are you serious? Wow, you're quick."

"It was easy really; I noticed on the footage that he had a hip injury on his left side that was a few years old, add four years to that and it would have healed to –"

"That's nice Bones," Booth motioned for Bones to stay still and bean walking toward Spencer, attempting to make the move nonchalant. After a quick glance to confirm that it was indeed Elliot Spencer, he bumped into his shoulder. "Wow man, I am so sorry."

Elliot was cut off midsentence and looked at the man; he didn't' recognize him but something about his demeanor had him on edge. (A feeling he couldn't relate to the others due to the nearness of the two around him.)

"The name's Chris Riddell, how are you?" Booth smiled kindly, "I left my glasses at home and my depth perception isn't that good. Ha ha. I've been bumping into people all night." He shook this "Spencer's" hand and motioned to Bones, "This is my date Temperance. What is your name?"

Elliot kissed the offered Temperence's hand and replied that his name was Paul Stewart.

With only a subtle surprised glance to Elliot, MaryLee introduced herself, determined to keep his secret.

That glance was enough to key off both Bones and Booth.

"I hear the end of the hallway has a phenomenal view of the land, have you seen it?"

"Go with it Elliot," Nate instructed.

"No, I haven't, should we go see?"

"Sure," Booth knew he was up to something but passed Bones to the young MaryLee, "Why don't we leave our women folk." Booth and Bones shared a glance before the two men walked out of the ballroom together.

"You're going to have to take him out," Nate's voice shocked Elliot a moment.

"I know."

"What did you say, Paul?" Booth held the door open and was glad that no one was in the hall.

"I said," Elliot steeled himself for the fight he felt coming, "I know how beautiful the land is in this state, I was born here." Before he could blink, he was on the ground and Booth had his hands behind his back, "Elliot Spencer, right? You are under arrest for the murder of – UUUUUGGGHHHFFFFF."

"What do you want with me?" Elliot had rolled to his back and kicked off the attacker.

"The murder of Willy Carson four years ago," Booth grunted, rubbing his chest where Elliot had just kicked him.

"What?" Elliot was stunned just long enough for Booth to charge, grabbing him around the waist and propelling him back into the wall.

"FBI," Booth reached into his jacket for his badge. "Damnit," he growled when he realized it wasn't there. This caused just enough hesitation for Elliot to regain his balance and toss Booth into a rather expensive table.

"He's FBI," Parker reported, "Agent Seeley Booth," she paused and sighed, "Seeley, that's an attractive name."

"Parker," Nate warned, "he's here for a reason and Elliot just went out with him. Hardison."

"I'm on it, boss."

"FBI?" Elliot was panting at this point; at least comforted by the fact that Booth was out of breath too. "Why do you think I killed Willy?"

"Um, Elliot," Hardison's voice broke into the conversation, "I hate to tell you this, but Agent Booth there was one of the one's after you years ago; I just accessed his past cases. Now he's on the case of Willy Carson."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out myself." Booth had Elliot in a chokehold.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Do you need help there?" Nate asked.

"Nope, I got this."

"Ah," Booth found the communicator and pulled it out. "Looks you have some partners in there."

"You leave them out of this," Elliot got lose and the two faced off.

After a moment to catch his breath, Booth recovered enough to say, "I have partners too, either you come with me now or I swear I will find your friends and they will be charged with accessory to murder after the fact."

"Damnit," Elliot took a moment to consider the offer. The agent could have been bluffing, but if he wasn't the entire team would go down. It would be much easier to find another hitter than it would be to find an entire crew of thieves who wanted to help the less fortunate. "Leave them alone," he put his hands behind his head, "take me and leave them alone. But I'll tell you now, you have the wrong guy."

"Oh, really," Booth was glad that Elliot hadn't called his bluff. "Then who should I be looking at?" He really didn't care, was just making small talk; he remembered that just a week ago he had easily taken out four Air Force One guards singlehandedly and hadn't even broken a sweat. This man was tough and knew how to fight, a trait that Booth almost admired.

"Booth, did you win?" Elliot saw Booth's date Temperance step out into the hall, MaryLee wasn't with her.

"Yes, Bones, let's get him back to the station," Booth had the perp handcuffed and began steering him toward the outside of the house.

"Going so soon Agent Booth?" Elliot's heart froze as he heard the voice. Parker squeaked (she was standing behind him before she ran off to report to Nate that Elliot had been arrested). The voice came from none other than Conan McGill.

"Yeah, we're just investigating a murder from four years ago," Booth shook Elliot's handcuffs. "Looks like we got our guy so we've gotta go."

"Hrmph, no good murders runnin' lose in my town. Just the thought of it makes me sick." Something about the man that the agent had arrested looked familiar to McGill, but he couldn't place it. "Well, you gotta do your job, FBI and all. Thank you so much for doing your part to protect our city." He shook Booth's hand before adjourning into the ballroom.

"I don't like him," Brennan whispered to Booth.

"Ha, you have no idea," no one heard Elliot.

Author's Note: Okay, if you liked it, if you hated it, whatever please press that little button right under these words. Yes, those and REVIEW!


	5. Interrogation and Name Calling

Authors Note: I am bored waiting for my class and decided to give you this update. Enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

"Hey, Booth, why didn't _I_ get a false name?" Brennan was looking through the two-way mirror to where the man, Elliot Spencer, sat in the interrogation room. "I mean, you got to be 'Chris Riddell', why was I just 'Temperance'?"

Booth groaned and rubbed his sore jaw and took the icepack off of his back, "Sorry Bones, I didn't think that you would want one. Next time, I'll let you introduce yourself." He seemed to be coddling a child.

"Okay," the answer seemed to suite Bones.

"Hey, I know you're back there!" Spencer was reclined in the chair, boots propped up on the table. "I have places to be, thank you."

Elliot grumbled quietly: This was not good. Not good at all. And, to top it off, his communicator was gone so no one knew where he was.

He was just getting bored when the FBI agent Seeley Booth walked through the door.

"I'd call myself Corby Flood," Bones was saying in Booth's com.

"So, Elliot Spencer, you have quite a few countries after you, including Australia. How the hell do you get _Australia_ out for you?" (Oh how Elliot wanted to answer that one!) Booth mimicked Elliot's stance and put his hands behind his head.

"I don't know who you're talking about," he silently crossed his fingers, hoping that he could count on Hardison to take care of the problem.

"Well," Booth leaned forward and pulled pictures from his folder. One was a mug-shot from years ago: Elliot was a bit smaller and had shorter hair, but the eyes gave him away. The second picture was more recent (about four years ago) of Elliot talking with a small man. He vaguely remembered this as the day before he was beaten by McGill.

Placing each picture in front of Elliot, Booth continued, "So you don't know this man?" He tapped the mug-shot, "This one seems very familiar to me."

Elliot looked at it, "Nope."

"Okay," Booth tapped the other, "do you recognize this other man?"

Elliot lied.

"His name's Willy Carson. He died shortly after this was taken, and look," he pointed to the picture of Elliot, "it looks just like you!"

Behind the mirror, Bones was posing questions to the psychiatrist Lance Sweets. "I don't understand Booth knows the picture is him, why is he still pretending he's not Elliot Spencer?"

Sweets explained, "Booth has the man's prints running," he saw the black fingertips Spencer was showing Booth, "They'll get the truth soon enough. For now, he's just looking for some kind of reaction."

Bones looked from Sweets to Elliot, "Is he getting any?"

Sweets shook his head, "No. If he's lying he has no tell. This man must have gone through some intense psychological training."

Both observers looked back to the two in the room.

"Yes," Booth was saying, "We'll see when your prints come back." Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

When Booth came back from the door he had another file. Elliot knew they were his prints.

"Hm, isn't this interesting," Booth looked at the results and flicked a slightly anxious glance to Bones.

Elliot caught this.

"These results show that you have two names; Paul Spencer and Elliot Stewart."

"Damnit Hardison," Elliot screamed inwardly. Once he regained his composure, Elliot looked Booth in the eye, "So, I'm free to go. I'm not that Elli-whoever."

Booth chuckled, he did_ not_ like this man (and this stemmed from more than the growing bruises on his ribs.) "Not quite, your fingerprints _did_ match those already printed to match Elliot Spencer, so let's drop the act. I already know that you have someone on the outside and they must be hacking government computers for you."

Elliot sighed and leaned forward, leaning on his elbows against the table, "Prove it."


	6. Ideas and Bombs

**Author's Note: Thanks so much for your reviews! I'm sure you can tell that I don't have a real **_**plan**_** for uploading, just whenever I get bored and feel like adding. But now that I'm sad because *sob* no new episodes until July! there may be more uploads. **

**Leverage**

**Chapter 6: Ideas and Bombs**

"What happened, Hardison?" Nate asked when Hardison's screen went blank.

"I-I'm not sure," he hit a few keys, "but I think we're in trouble."

From her perch on the arm of the couch, Parker began calling for Elliot through the com. "I'm not getting a response, guys. Something's wrong."

"That would be because the FBI guy took his com," Nate told her.

To Sophie, the girl actually seemed worried, "Don't worry Parker; we'll get him back, darling."

"Of course we will," Nate assured everyone, watching studiously as Hardison got the computer up again.

"Okay guys, it looks like they pulled the fingerprint file before I was able to fully change it. They have him," Hardison swore under his breath.

"Hardison, where is he being taken?" Nate's foot tapped.

Again, he tech-monkeyd a bit before announcing that Elliot would be in a privet cell at the local jail three blocks from the hotel.

"Good, good. Let's go steal us a jail."

After enduring a strip search by a guard who enjoyed his job a _little_ too much, Elliot was dressed in the typical orange jumpsuit and placed in his own privet cell due to his "uncharacteristically violent" behavior.

Hardison had basic schematics of the jail pulled up on his laptop; Elliot's cell was highlighted in red. "Okay, security around the jail is light compared to what we've faced before, but without a hitter–"

Nate finished for him, "The security around his cell will be difficult to bypass."

"I have an Idea." It surprised everyone when Parker stood up.

Booth was waiting for Brennan in the office she had borrowed from one of the coroners, fiddling with the human skull that was on the desk. Something about the arrest didn't feel right. This Elliot Spencer was dangerous, that he knew all too well, but, he noticed during the scuffle, he employed practiced and learned martial moves. Unless Brennan hadn't mentioned them, showings of this nature weren't on the bones. Also, after looking through the man's record, Elliot had never been one to use guns. Booth was just running a thumb down the zygomatic process of the skull when Bones walked into the office with piles of paperwork.

She paused just in the doorway. "Booth, what are you doing here?"

"Just a thought, Bones," he pointed a finger at her with the hand that held the skull. "I fought that man."

"Yes you did and you did well," she took the skull exasperatedly and sat it back on the desk, "except that for those bruises."

"Well, he's studied. He is a learned fighter and he strategizes."

"Really?" She was looking through the paperwork now. "It just seemed he was beating you up."

"Bones!"

"Sorry."

"As I was saying: test me. If the injuries match up to the dead guy then he definitely did it. Common," he saw her hesitate, "you did it before with that chick boxer. Do it to me."

Reluctantly and eventually, Bones agreed.

Elliot was, as I have said before, alone in his cell, head in his hands . . . boy was he bored.

Suddenly, from across the jail he heard a large BOOM which he could only relate to an explosion. A big one.

"Don't worry sir, everything is alright, but you will presently be moved to a different cell." The voice was familiar but the first striking thing about it was that it was female.

"P-Parker?" Elliot squinted to see through the bars and under the guard's hat.

"That's right, Loverly!" She winked, "I've been reading," this was almost a hiss.

Elliot face-palmed as he remembered where he had gotten his alias; He also cursed Sophie for buying Parker those damn books. (A/N: the Edge Chronicles by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell, great books!)


	7. Adding Insult to Injury to Injury

**Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed! *cough* even though I think that only two of you are commenting *shame shame* Enjoy!**

**Chapter 7: Adding Insult to Injury . . . to Injury**

It took Parker and Elliot less than one minute to escape the jail, the bomb a few cell blocks down providing a nice distraction for the pudgy, backwoods cops. None of which even _guessed_ that the bomb (which harmed no one . . . that really matters) could possibly be a distraction.

"There was an explosion in the jail!"

Booth was pouring sub-grade coffee from the machine down the hall from the broom closet that served as his office, when the small cop ran past. He noticed with somewhat satisfaction at his horror, that it was the same cop who was hitting on Brennan.

"There was an explosion in the jail!" Now he realized what the man was saying . . . no more satisfaction. He took off running in the direction the man had run from, "Shit." Booth knew what this meant, Elliot Spencer had escaped.

"Good news guys," Hardison leaned back on the couch, "No fuzz on the block, I think we got away."

Elliot was in the kitchen, an ice pack on is shoulder. After Parker and he had left his jail cell, an awesome chase scene took place; apparently Sophie spent some time in Tokyo drifting as well as grifting. "Who _was_ that guy?" Even though he had been in jail for five hours, everyone knew he was talking about Agent Booth. "Is he with McGill?"

Sophie was at his left shoulder, taking the ice pack in one hand and resting the other palm on the injury, "It's swollen, Elliot, I think your arm is dislocated."

Elliot growled lightly, "I know, I'll fix it later."

Hardison was pulling up the profile he had searched before, this time searching all hits. "Agent Seeley Booth."

When his picture pulled up on the screen, Parker squeaked; when the man wasn't carting off her friend to jail, he was quite as attractive as his name.

"He was a sniper for a time for the US," (Elliot scoffed), "He's been an FBI agent for years. He's been in newspapers numerous times over the last five years with a Dr. Temperance Brennan, Forensic Anthropologist." He paused his impromptu side show, "The lady in purple," as it continued, Hardison laughed, "Hey, get this, just last week he singlehandedly took down four members of the Secret Service! Wow, if this got out those agents would be screwed!" He paused again, waiting for something along the lines of "oooooo, Hardison, however did you find _that_ out?" No such luck and he sighed, "Brennan works for the Jeffersonian in Boston and I hacked into the surveillance."

Nate was the only one who noticed Parker's squeak and was trying hard to ignore it. "Can you hack into the computer systems? Why are they after Elliot?" He looked at the man, "Well, other than the obvious."

"Simple," Elliot pushed himself off the bar and walked into the living room, "they think I killed him," he pointed to the screen where Hardison had pulled up a live feed of the forensic platform where Willy Carson lay. Everyone looked to the monitor. Suddenly the gravity of the situation hit them, Elliot was in deep trouble, and the only way that they could get him out would be to plan the best con that they had ever done. When they looked back, Elliot was nowhere to be seen.

It was disconcerting to the rest of the team how silently the brawny man could move.

When Nate found Elliot later that day, he had his left wrist tied to the banister in the stairwell. The ice pack had made the swelling go down a bit in his shoulder but now it lay discarded next to his feet. "Elliot, McGill knows you're back."

Elliot grunted in acknowledgement, putting his hand on his shoulder. In one motion he yanked his body back and, with a _POP_ his shoulder was back in place.

"And this Agent Booth is after you."

Another grunt as Elliot replaced the icepack and untied his wrist.

"This entire con is at stake now. We missed our chance at the party. Not long after you were carted off, McGill left and we couldn't follow him . . ."

"What are you saying?" Elliot spat curtly.

Nate wasn't afraid of Elliot, no one was in the group, but he was cautious of what he had to tell him: "I think you should sit this one out."

"No," Elliot's back was to the bottom of the stairs, "I messed this up, I'll fix it."

As Nate rubbed the bridge of his nose, he really wished he had a drink; vodka, straight up, or maybe whiskey. _Honestly_! it was like he was raising a bunch of children, really mentally disturbed children! "It's not that I don't think you _can _do it, I am just thinking about what is best for the team." He could see that he wasn't getting anywhere. "Go down to the cafeteria, get some juice, hit the gym _some-thing_ just stay close. Okay?" he patted the hitters good shoulder before going back through the door into the hall.

As much as he hated to admit it, while Elliot descended the stairs to the gym, he realized Nate had a point. In fact, he was so caught up in this thought he ran right into a woman who was jogging up the stairs when he rounded the corner to a landing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

The woman's soft drawl knocked Elliot flat against the stairs. "MaryLee, how the hell did you find me?"

The girl's eyes widened at how easily she had found him. "I am so sorry Elliot," she was sitting at the other end of the landing, a few steps down with her elbows on the flat ground, "I didn't know the agent was there. You have to believe that I didn't want Daddy to find you." She saw that Elliot didn't believe her. "You don't remember, do you?" She sighed, "Four years ago, the week before . . . you know . . . we stayed here. You said you loved it . . . that's how I found you. Don't worry, no one else knows. We need to talk . . ."

By this time, Booth was all but fed up with the whole police force in that town. They had the "best and brightest" out searching for Elliot Spencer but to no avail.

"Booth," Brennan knocked on the door frame before coming in. "Still no word on Spencer?" The look on Booth's face told the answer to that. "I spoke with the coroner; there is no scanner in Texas. If you still want the tests done we will have to leave on the earliest flight back to Boston. Before your injuries heal."

Booth had been ready for this flight before Elliot had escaped and already had his ticket in his hand. "Do you think any information we get from this will be helpful?" He was still crestfallen over losing the perp. "Will it be worth losing a day on the trail?"

Bones leaned against the door way, "You thought it would five hours ago and I trust your judgment." She made a small "come on" motion, "Let's go."

With a grin, Booth got up and followed her. Soon they were on a plane bound for Boston.

**Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this installment of The Seeley Booth Job. As always: REVIEW!**


	8. Conversations with Womenfolk

**Author's Note: I know that it seems this story has lost the con . . . it hasn't! I promise! They just haven't thought of a new one yet! But it is coming soon. **

**Chapter 8: Conversations with Womenfolk**

"Where is Elliot?" No one else had asked and Sophie felt that it was time. "He's been gone all night." It was nine o'clock on Monday morning and Elliot hadn't been seen since six o'clock Sunday night. The team had made plans to meet and discuss where the con would progress from here. Now they were missing a hitter.

"It's fine Sophie," Nate assured her, "he's . . . working off stress."

Hardison scoffed, seeing Elliot "working off stress" on some unsuspecting inanimate object . . .or animate: poor Agent Booth. He almost felt sorry for him.

"I'm just worried about him, with Agent Booth around, what if he's in trouble, again?"

Elliot stirred his tea lazily as MaryLee continued her story. "Four years ago, shortly after," she looked up from her glass and ran her gaze over his body, "you know . . ."

Elliot scoffed and took a drink.

"Yeah, I'm sure you know . . ." she sighed and wiped an eye. Elliot felt a pang of guilt at being so ugly to her. "That guy on the news, Willy Carson?" He nodded. "He killed him, Elliot. My father did." Now the tears fell freely. "Elliot, I heard that you were arrested . . ." Her voice disappeared into sobs.

The hitter gulped and patted MaryLee's hand, handing her a tissue. "It's alright Darlin', he's not gonna hurt you none."

The girl seemed scared, far different from the shy/sexy Texas girl that Elliot had fallen in love with (okay, in _lust_ with at least). As MaryLee began to cry harder, Elliot looked around, noting the attention they were getting. "Sweetheart," he squeezed her wrist reassuringly. When that didn't help, he got up and slid next to her in the booth, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Babe, I won't let nothin' happen to you."

Her hair smelled like coconuts.

Booth drummed his fingers on the arm rest of the plane's seat impatiently. Next to him, Bones dosed. As he leaned his chair back he was appreciative that she had offered to buy his plane ticket this time so that they were both in first class. While asleep (and awake, but Booth wouldn't let himself think that just yet) she really was beautiful: how the corner of her lips just turned down, slightly open enough to let puffs of air escape. Her eyes weren't even doing that creepy back-and-forth thing that sleeping eyes did. (Yes, that was because she hadn't hit REM sleep yet, and he knew that, but he still loved it.) "Good night, Bones." Booth breathed and fell asleep.

"Honey, I'm home," Elliot allowed the door to slam behind him. He didn't like having to leave MaryLee at the diner, but, after paying for his tea and her pie (which, while his arm was around her, they shared) she insisted that he go back to the hotel where he would be safe. Elliot hated doing what was safe, but he had reluctantly agreed. Only Parker was in the room. It was two o'clock.

"They left a few hours ago," Parker told him. It was slightly eerie how she just sat there, facing the door like she had known he was coming in.

"Parker, how did you –" In his confusion he was pointing at the door, which finished the question for Parker.

"I didn't," she shrugged, turning to the TV, "I was just seeing if I could pick that lock with my mind."

**Author's Note: Sorry this is so short, I wanted to show the conversation . . . and then couldn't go from there . . . BUT! Fear not! The next chapter is written and will be posted soon!**


	9. Testing the Limits

**Author's Note: Yeah, lots of reviews this week, I've been bored in class. Well, My reviews are not climbing as much as I would like them to. Now, don't get me wrong, I am LOVING the favoriters, but I would like to see a big 30 underlined in blue! Keep that in mind as you read!**

**Chapter 9: Testing the Limits**

"Good news again," Hardison pushed a button and the flight schedule out of El Paso to Boston pulled up on the screen, "Looks like the agent and his lady friend have left the Lone Star State." He did (and failed at) a little "swinging a lasso over your head" move before putting the laptop down on the coffee table.

"Not so good," Elliot was in the bathroom but had come out at the comment, his hair still dripping and a towel wrapped around his waist.

Sophie realized that this was the first time that any of them had seen him without a shirt, in the whole two years they had known him.

"Not so good," Elliot repeated, sitting in an arm chair as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, "Booth is tough," the team noticed the bruises already dark on Elliot's torso and appendages, "and relentless, he ain't gonna leave without the job being done," he pointed to himself. "No, those two are up to something. I just gotta think of what."

"Okay Booth," Brennan put the last electrode on Booth's stomach, pressing it to be sure that it had good contact.

Booth felt stupid. Yeah, it was his idea but now, standing there, hooked up to electrodes _hoping_ that they could get a reading off of his injuries that would mean _something_.

Those injuries hadn't escaped the eyes of Brennan: thought he hid it from her well, now, bare chested, the bruises were more than obvious. On his left side a large patch of bruising showed (on the surface) that Spencer had a strong right jab. However, the bruising on the left middle side of his abdomen, showed a good left uppercut. Brennan could have continued speculating but she knew data never lied so she allowed Angela to run the computer program.

"Okay," she said as a 3D "Booth" came up on the screen, "I've uploaded the information Wendell gave me about Mr. Carson's remains; they will show up yellow on our man." The machine scanning Booth continued whirring as yellow splotches appeared on the 3D image.

Booth already saw problems. The man's head and face had taken a lot of damage; other than where his head had hit the table, it had sustained little. (Elliot had mainly been a "body" kind of guy.) "Bones? Do you think this is going to help," he was beginning to doubt himself, again, not for the first (or fourth) time.

"Yes Booth, of course it will."

"This may be the psychologist in me," Sweets had flown back to Boston with them, "but fighters don't normally change their fighting style over a time of only four years. He will still have certain moves and pressure of his hands, and other tells." Sweets nodded as Booth's bio-scan information came in. "I think that this will be helpful."

Brennan was actually impressed that Sweets was correct, "I-I concur."

The yellow splotched 3D image now had blue welts growing on it. Immediately the problem could be seen:

"These marks do not match," Brennan shook her head. "Whoever beat up Mr. Carson was beaten up by a left handed person. And look here," she had noticed the yellowed face, "There is significantly less blue than yellow. And here," now the torso, "Booth's bruises on his torso are much more localized. The yellow are very . . . haphazard." She tapped her chin. "Wow, Booth, I do have to admit that you must be in a lot of pain, if not now then tomorrow. I am not a medical doctor but I would recommend that you take a hot bath tonight, maybe without the beer helmet, and take three ibuprofen."

"You mean two, Bones," he stood still as Brennan began removing the electrodes.

"No, you will be needing three." When they were all off Brennan tucked the electrodes into the bag and helped Booth back into his shirt. "You go home, I am going to stay and do work."

Once Booth was gone, Brennan turned to Angela, "I hope he is not too upset, he really thought that it was Elliot Spencer."

Angela still held the computer template in her hand and was being sure that the data was saved to the hard drive, "Just because it doesn't look like Spencer beat this guy up, doesn't make him innocent." For her own sake she ran a search on her 3D imager for Elliot Spencer, "I can't believe that someone who could take out Booth – "

"Almost," Brennan corrected, "Booth actually won."

"Almost – could be innocent." She had completed her search, pulling up the picture that Booth had shown Elliot before, the mug shot. "Well, he is handsome."

Brennan glanced at the picture, getting ready to go to the forensics' platform. "Oh, he looks completely different now," she looked at thumbnails from the case that Angela had in the back ground of the private monitor. "That one," she pointed at the one that was taken at the party by McGill's surveillance tapes. She walked away.

Angela, shrugging, did as Brennan suggested. _"Oh my . . ."_

"Dr. Bray," Brennan carded herself onto the platform. Until this moment, she hadn't realized just how much she missed the Jeffersonian. Don't get her wrong, she loved the times she got to spend with Booth on an assignment, but, the truth was, she was much more comfortable in her lab coat, a pile of bones in front of her.

A prick hit in her chest and she put her hands on the slat. That was a lie and she knew it. Maybe before when Booth was just that cocky FBI agent who called her team "squints" and actually meant it as an insult, but not now. The _real _truth? She loved it when he called her a squint, loved the look on his face (even though it had been years) when she told him about sailing around the world with Sully, he had taken a bullet for her and she loved that. Loved him? . . . No: she couldn't think that far ahead right now. Mr. Carson needed her.

"Dr. Brennan," Wendell looked up from his work when he was addressed. "I heard about the bio-scan, I hope it went as you expected."

"Injuries of the flesh, Wendell, we're here for bones." She didn't come off as coarse as the words and Wendell understood what she meant.

"Here is the file that I worked up while you were in Texas." Hodgens, who was standing behind him, turned at the waist and did the "swinging-a-lasso-over-his-head" dance thing, causing Brennan to smile a little. "Did you meet any cowboys?" He handed her the file.

Brennan took the file; it was much thicker than she had anticipated, "Fractured proximal phalanges?" She had started at the beginning of the report. "Wendell, this report is not finished; you did not give a side or number. This is unacceptable."

Wendell stuttered a moment before defending himself, "I am sorry Dr. Brennan, I did not think that it was necessary," he motioned to the skeleton's hands to accentuate his point. One glance told Brennan all she needed to know. The reason that Wendell hadn't specified which finger was because all of them had fractured. "Torture?" It wasn't meant to be a question but as Brennan delved deeper into the file, she saw that this was true. 'I don't know how I missed it,' she thought, not wanting to say the comment aloud for the second time on this case. Of course, when _she _had seen the bones they were covered with grime and she hadn't wanted to compromise evidence by unwrapping them fully from their swaddling's.

From the way her brow furrowed, Wendell knew there was something wrong, "What is it Dr. Brennan?"

She didn't answer and instead strode swiftly and determinedly off the platform and straight to her office. Though she had only been gone less than a week, the comfort that was brought on by the sight of _her_ stuff was overwhelming.

When her rear had scarcely touched leather she had hit speed dial number six and had the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" it was Booth.

"Booth, it is me."

"I know Bones, I have caller ID."

"Willy Carson was tortured, that could make all information from the bio-scan invalid."

On the other end, Brennan heard Booth sigh. "No, it doesn't Bones, Elliot Spencer has been known to torture people, but in all of his records there is not one mention of him being a drug dealer. We were after the wrong guy."

Brennan was confused, "So you are just going to let him go?"

Booth chuckled, "He may be innocent of murdering Willy Carson, but he's guilty of plenty else, including assaulting a federal agent." As Booth hung up with Brennan, he rubbed his sore ribs.

He was back in his apartment, in the bathtub, three ibuprofen in his palm. As he dropped the phone outside the tub he sighed and popped the pills into this mouth, then took a swig out of his beer helmet to wash them down.

Elliot, who had gone missing from the hotel again, didn't know that the above conversation had taken place. However, had he stayed in the room, he would have known that Hardison had managed to tap the phone lines at the Jeffersonian, including the one going out of Dr. Brennan's office.

"I think that I have a new plan," Nate drummed his fingers on his chin. The tone in his voice as he said that told the rest of the team that they wouldn't like his idea . . .

Elliot got in later that day, no one asked where he had been but they were all waiting for him. He froze just inside the door. "What's going on guys?" No one said anything and Parker had a queer look in her eye as she fiddled aimlessly with a lock. (When it clicked easily open he figured out that it wasn't "aimless" fiddling.) Elliot's eyes narrowed, "Is this some sort of intervention?"

Nate shook his head and stepped forward, "No, we've changed marks. We now have a new con."

**Author's Note: And here comes the con! There ya go, a long chapter for my reviewers and adding-this-story-to-my-favorite's . . . ers . . . and remember! **

**30 . . . underlined in blue!**


	10. Here We Go Again

**Author's Note: Oooookkkkaaayyy, so, didn't quite hit 30 . . . off by, like 7 . . . this makes me cry tears from my eyes . . . Here you go, non-reviewing peoples.**

**Ch 10: Here We Go Again**

Because she wanted to be sure nothing was overlooked in their case, Brennan opted for her and Booth to stay in DC (A/N: sorry readers, I said Boston before . . . I was on some drugs *somewhat dejectedly* I don't want to talk about it . . .) one more day. She fully intended to spend the entire time in the lab, but, at the instance of Booth who "had been poppin' pills all morning and felt fine", they were sitting at the diner for breakfast.

"I called the El Paso police department, they have an APB out on Elliot Spencer," Booth took a sip of his coffee.

"Good," Brennan nibbled on bacon and slid her waffle onto Booth's plate while he gave her his scrambled eggs. "I hope we catch him," she went on but Booth wasn't listening.

Across the diner, standing next to the exit was Elliot Spencer. His arms were crossed, hair pulled half back and his blue eyes were locked on Booth's. When the man was sure he had his attention, he simply turned and strode out.

"Ya know what Bones; hold that a moment," he slid his chair out and followed Spencer.

Outside the door, the street was, at least for this time of day, full of people but none of them were who he was looking for. Booth was sure he had seen him.

Elliot had rounded a corner into an alley, hopping Booth would follow. A moment later it became obvious he had lost him. "Damnit, I'm not used to being followed," he grunted, walking back out onto the street to again catch Booth's eye.

Booth was searching down both sides of the street for Spencer, finally catching him as the hitter rounded into an alley way.

Experience told Booth that this could be a trap, but the blatant "it's a trap" atmosphere caused the seasoned agent to doubt this. Looking once back to the diner, he followed the perp around the corner. "Elliot Spencer?" Booth checked with his arm that his guns were in their holsters.

Elliot stood fifteen feet into the alley, feet apart and arms crossed, "Yeah." Booth waited for him to go on but he stopped.

"Well," the agent mimicked Elliot's stance.

Elliot glared at the agent, he really hated being mimicked. _"Be nice Elliot," Sophie said in his ear, "Remember the con." _"Yeah, yeah," he growled under his breath so Booth didn't hear. To the agent he said, "Willy Carson. By now you know that I'm innocent."

Hearing the man speak didn't calm Booth's nerve any, "I know you didn't kill him but being innocent is not the same thing." Hearing the man laugh made the hair on Booth's neck stand on end.

"Whatever you say Agent Booth. Listen, I know you're lady friend is in that diner," he pointed and took a step toward Booth (Booth, not to be out done, stepped forward as well), "now, I could be a complete jackass and tell you that one of my men has her right now." He saw Booth flinch toward the entrance to the alley and laughed harder than he had before. "Easy cowboy, I said if I wanted to be a jackass I could say that. You might want to stay and hear me out."

"I'm listening," Booth didn't relax one bit.

"You may also want to toss your gun's right here," Elliot pointed to the empty space between them, "when I'm gone you can pick them back up." He saw the distrust in Booth's eye, "Listen, I'm not the bad guy here, just do what I said or I'm out of here and you'll never catch your killer."

The steel in Spencer's blue eyes was enough and Booth drew both guns and slid them to the middle of the alley.

"What would you say if I gave you your murderer?"

"First, I'd say you're full of shit." Nate flinched at learning this. "And second, I'd ask what you want in return."

"_Good," _Nate whispered in Elliot's ear, _"you want to be free of all charges and you want updates on the case . . ."_

"I also want my team involved in the capture of the criminal," Elliot finished.

"Fine, agreed, who do I need to be looking at?" Booth didn't like this arrangement but he saw the necessity of it.

"Good, go back to the good doctor. We'll contact you with the information later today." Elliot turned to leave, "Don't forget your guns."

Booth watched as Spencer strode deeper into the alley, hands in his pockets. As soon as he retrieved his guns, he ran after him, stopping short as he realized there was a dead end: Spencer had disappeared.

The "disappearing" part of the plan had been Parker's creation. Under his clothes, Elliot was wearing a harness and, hidden in the shadows, he hooked himself to a rope and was hoisted out of the alley, just reaching the roof in time to see Booth chase after him.

"Hm hm hm," Elliot chuckled under his breath, watching as the agent searched left and right for him to no avail. "This just keeps getting better and better!"

"_Easy Elliot,"_ Nate warned, _"we have to be careful on how we approach this. Agent Booth is smarter than any other mark that we've had so far."_

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Elliot said gruffly, turning to follow Parker off of the roof.

"Hey Booth, where did you go?" Brennan looked up from her eggs before motioning to Booth's plate with her fork, "Your waffles are getting cold."

Booth was surprised when the breath he didn't know that he was holding was released in a whoosh. What had he expected? The handsome (yes, even Booth would admit that) Elliot Spencer to have one of his goons kidnap Bones? When he got there for everyone to be on their noses with a bunch of big guns pointed at them? Bones to be mouthing, "Booth! Help us!"? Geesh, you think he's that stupid?! No, he knew Brennan would be fine, that Spencer was telling the truth. The holding of his breath was merely habit. "Hey Bones, sorry about that," Booth skipped back to the bar, immediately taking a bite of waffle in his mouth. (While he had been gone, Bones had gotten bored and cut it for him into geometric shapes. He had just eaten a rhombus.) "I, uh, you know what Bones," he smiled, eating a triangle, "I'll tell you back at the lab."

"You're trusting this man?" Brennan asked when they were back in her office waiting for the contact Spencer promised.

"Not as far as . . . okay, so maybe I couldn't _throw_ him, bad back and all, but . . . Okay, the point is, and as much as it pains me to say this, we need him." He had one of Brennan's paper weights in his hand, hefting it from one palm to the other.

"Okay Booth, I will trust you."

Just as she finished her concession her phone rang. She saw Booth reach for it and motioned him to stop, "Jeffersonian Forensics Anthropology Department, Dr. Temperance Brennan speaking." A few "um hm"'s and "yes, of course"'s followed and soon she hung up. Booth raised an eyebrow expectantly. Brennan rose to the occasion, "It was not for you, Booth, Dr. Baker and a few comrades are waiting for me in the lobby. I am going to meet them now." She stood, straightened her skirt and walked toward the lobby, "And please Booth, do not answer my phone." With a flourish, she was gone.

It was only ten minutes when she came back with Dr. Baker and two of his associates, a tall black man and a small blonde in glasses and a lab coat. "Oh, this must be Agent Booth," Dr. Baker reached out to take Booth's hand. His hair was thin and a mess, he had on big glasses and a square face. Something in his eyes confused Booth. "I am Dr. Tom Baker, and these are my associates, Stephanie Mahoney," he gestured to the blonde, "and Andrew Blithe. Can we go to your office, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan led them all to her office. "Please, sit. Can I ask what brings you to the Jeffersonian?"

Booth realized where he knew the team from just as "Dr. Baker" gestured to the closet to introduce his other associate.

"Sorry about tricking you," Baker said, "but we felt it was safer this way." Elliot stepped out of the closet. (A/N: no, not that way . . . I LOVE HIM! However unrequited it may be.) "No, Dr. Brennan, we mean you no harm, no need to trip the alarm." She pushed it anyway and Hardison (Dr. Blithe) held up the scrambler he had.

"Calm down, Bones, we're among friends here," Booth felt calm, even in light of their present situation. "So," he smiled at Elliot, "You just had to open our discussions with a lie." He patted the couch next to him to offer the hitter a space, "common, let's get this over with."

Elliot took the seat offered and pointed to Nate, "This is Nathan Ford, and he's actually in charge here."

"Thank you, Elliot," "Dr. Baker," now known as Nathan Ford, leaned back against Brennan's desk and took off his glasses, "First, we want to apologize for this intrusion." On the couch, Elliot leaned against the armrest, nodding to Booth in greeting. Brennan sat between the two men. "You should feel good about yourselves; we're giving you our real names." Elliot grumbled that was not his idea. "This is Alec Hardison," he pointed to Dr. Blythe, "and Parker," Dr. Mahoney waved. "We are . . ." Nate paused, searching for the right word, "vigilantes."

None of the names rang any big bells for Booth who had been working homicide, but the "Parker" one seemed vaguely familiar . . . only because it was like "Madonna" or "Prince" (before all the "Artist Formerly Known As" stuff); one name and that's all.

"Hardison, show him why we're here."

"Alright boss." From his briefcase, Hardison pulled out a laptop and propped it up on the desk, turning it so Booth and Brennan could see. "Your dead guy, Willy Carson."

Brennan interjected, "We say 'the deceased' here."

"Your 'the deceased' dead guy then. Point is, you think our non-deceased guy Elliot, deceased him." Booth put his hand on Brennan's thigh to keep her from correcting the hacker. On Hardison's laptop, a picture of McGill came up.

"That is not possible," Booth's hand didn't stop the doctor this time, "Mr. McGill is a very prominent member of society. To say that he is capable of such things is sland . . . oh!"

Hardison had brought up a picture of an older man in a basement. Another man was tied to a chair and the first man, a sick grin on his face, was watching as the man was tortured. (Elliot grumbled again upon recognizing the man in the chair as him. He hoped that no one else had noticed: one glance to the good doctor told him that she had . . . stupid anthropologists . . .)

Brennan was looking at the laptop again, "I can say confidently that that is Mr. McGill."

Hardison chuckled proudly, "Yeah, facial recognition software, the big shot must have thought these were secure." He continued flipping through some slides, each one blurry but McGill's figure was obvious. (Elliot was glad that his chair was facing at an awkward angle so that the software hadn't and wouldn't detect him there.)

"Wow, Booth," Brennan had crossed to the laptop, "We were wrong about him all this time."

Booth was just beginning to say more when Angela burst into the room, "Brennan, Hodgens wants to do another experiment and he needs you to sign off on his order for a fresh pig carcass." Her tone was not elated.

"Oh, alright Angela, just give me a moment."

Now the artist saw everyone else in the room, first Hardison then Nate, then Parker (who waved) and then Elliot. "Um, hello," she covered her mouth in that way people do when they don't want other people to hear what they're saying. "Uh, Brennan, isn't that the guy that Booth was trying to catch?" From the couch, Elliot waved, he had heard everything. Angela waved back: oh yeah, he was hott and had a ge-orgeous smile. (On the same rabbit trail, Parker had hardly taken her eyes off of Booth since entering the room, only no one had noticed so far.)

Brennan did the same hand thing as Angela only less successfully and her voice was louder, "Yes but we havee decided that he is not bad . . . well he did not kill anyone, and now we are apparently working together."

"We are _not_ working together, Bones!" Booth stood up, and addressed Nate, "Listen, anyone could have faked those pictures!"

She wanted to spend more time with him. She _really_ wanted to spend more time with him. He was giving her _the look_, yeah, that one. Wow, it had been awhile since she had had a strong . . . 'Woah girl,' Angela stopped that train of thought, 'one step at a time.' "How about this, you don't trust them but you trust me. Why don't I look through those pictures?" When Nate didn't say "okay" right away she revised her tactic, "Let one of your guys stay here to make sure I don't, I don't know, erase or tamper with anything?"

While Angela was ogling over Elliot, Hardison noticed her; she was cute. "I could –"

"Okay," said Nate, "Elliot, you'll stay with her, the rest of us will go back to the hotel with Sophie." He waved the rest of his crew out of the room.

"B-but, he doesn't know the first thing about computers, yo! I mean, she could put a virus on my laptop, or sumin' like that an' he would never know! Why can't I just stay?" Hadison complained in this way the entire way out of the lab as Elliot raised his eye brows in that "Na na na na na na, I win!" way.

Back in the hotel Sophie pulled out her com, "Ugg! Men!"

**Author's Note: Eh, I was bored and decided to add a little love triangle. Oh, and Parker didn't want to leave either. Long chapter, yay! Now: GO FORTH YE READERS AND REVIEW! **


	11. The Four F's

**Author's Note: Well well, lucky you, two posts in as many days . . . I wanted to get this out there to see reactions. This chapter is kind of like **_**Conversations With Womenfolk**_**, kind of a stand-alone chapter that has nothing to do with the con, just a bit of character building and plot thickening. Enjoy! And review!**

**Chapter 11: The Four F's**

"So, you look normal," Elliot looked around the lab, "what do you _do_ here?" Angela and he were in the room with the holograph. The team was gone and Elliot and the artist were alone. (He had even taken out his ear bud for good measure.) In the twenty minutes they had been in the lab he had seen a huge, dead hog being brought into a back room by a grinning goofball, learned from an especially chatty man that the ejaculation of a dolphin could seriously injure you if you were to engage in sexual intercourse with it (he _really_ didn't want to know how he knew that . . . though at the same time he was oddly jealous of the dolphin species), there was a loud gunshot from the direction the pig had gone, and that Muslim had prayed four friggin' times already! (A/N: I have no problems with Muslim's I just thought it went with the paragraph.)

Angela laughed and Elliot gave her _that smile_, she went weak-kneed, "I'm an artist. Brennan finds their names," she gestured to several skulls that were lined up along the wall, "and I give them faces."

Elliot was looking from the skulls, to the sketches above them, to the giant computer thing in front of him. "So, you're like the Hardison of the group," this was almost muttered and he squelched.

"What?"

"Nothing," redirecting that conversation . . . "Wow, you're really good," the comment wasn't just chatter: Elliot loved art; he was especially interested in Waterhouse and Leighton. Angela was nothing like them, but that didn't matter the woman had talent . . . and an awesome ass and other features. (A/N: Yes, quite a few on this page, no, I am not boiling Elliot down into chauvinistic pig . . . merely setting up a few things.)

Angela blushed and then immediately hated herself, Elliot was a ladies man and he got by on his smiles . . . and, she noticed, the niceness of his ass . . . "From what I can see, your team isn't lying, these pictures aren't altered in any way," she used her pad to enlarge the clearest image of McGill, then ran her own facial recognition software. "And that is Conan McGill . . ." she trailed off, the man in the chair catching her eye. "Hm, one more piece to the puzzle," she focused the holograph on that image.

"He's, um," Elliot's voice broke but then he got it under control, "never facing forward, facial recognition won't help."

"Well then," Angela shut down the program after printing a few documentations, "it looks like our work here is done."

Elliot took a step toward her, "Looks like it is."

"Sophie, we're back!" Nate called for the grafter when the door to the hotel opened. She was still pouting on the couch where he had left her (not a real pout, just one to show her displeasure at being left out of the act). "Sophie, we couldn't _all_ go into there, if we were caught . . ."

"You took _Parker_, Nate, we all know how well _she_ grifts," now Sophie was indignant, "I'm your best actress!"

Being berated by Sophie, Nate was glad that Parker and Hardison had disappeared during the ride back. "Sophie –"

"No Nate!" The English woman stormed into her adjoining room, leaving Nate seething and confused.

Booth had stopped off at a Chinese restaurant to pick up orders for the lab, everyone was working overtime to gather as much information as possible on Willy Carson's remains before he and Bones went back to Texas to work out the arrest of Conan McGill. "Thank you," Booth said as he handed the cash to the girl behind the counter and picked up his bags. The wind was picking up as he slid into the front seat of his car.

"Hello!" Booth jumped, almost hitting his knee on the wheel as the voice piped up from the back seat. "I'm sorry Agent Booth, but you left your door unlocked."

Booth looked back, belted into the middle seat was the blonde form Brennan's office. She had changed clothes into black pants and shirt and suspenders (neon green of all things) and her hair was down. If not for the creepy "sitting uninvited in the back of his car" thing, he had checked the doors himself and knew that they were locked (when he brought this up she merely shrugged), she would have been cute, in that weird way.

"Parker, right?" Booth really didn't want to shut his door but did anyway. "What are you doing in my car?" Another thought, "How did you know I was here?"

She liked his voice. "I overheard that you were going on a Chinese run." She was crawling over the console now, her hip almost hitting Booth's face.

"Hey, hey I never said . . ."

"You don't have to say anything, Seeley," Parker, in all seriousness, put a hand on the agent's shoulder, "I've seen the looks you two share. We could never work out, Seeley Booth. You're in love with Temperance." The dreamy look in the thief's eye might have made Booth laugh if not for the present circumstance.

"W-what do you mean 'we could never work out'?"

Parker relieved him of the bag of food and put on her seat belt, "Your mushu's getting cold, might want to get back to the museum."

Booth sighed, good Lord and butter, that girl was strange. Knowing he couldn't well leave her at the restaurant (he shuttered to think what she would do if left alone) he said, "Do you want to join us for lunch?"

Hardison was pissed, no, more than pissed: pissed off, and peeved, and livid, and upset, angry, irate, cross, ireful, fuming and many other words that he would need a thesaurus to look up. Just outside of the Jeffersonian, he had refused to get into the cab with Nate and Parker, choosing instead to walk around town, blow off some steam. Yeah, he had been allowed to go on the mission, yeah, though he hated to admit it, Elliot was the better looking one of the two, but still! He couldn't believe that Nate wouldn't give him this_ one_ cool job. Hadn't he always been the one to save the day? You know, whenever computers could save the day?

The truth was, he was unable to fully hack the Jeffersonian's firewalls that kept hackers like him out of their personal files, including everything that the FBI had ascertained on Willy Carson. This was evidence that they would need to go any farther in bringing down McGill, and he hadn't been able to get them.

"Stupid Elliot, stupid computer's," Hardison mumbled as he got away from everything "Leverage Incorporated" related, "stupid part Chinese artist lady . . ."

**(A/N: Let's see here, we have Fighting, Feeding, Fleeing, what are we missing . . . oh yeah . . .)**

"Wow, just 'wow'," Angela was still panting, rolling onto her back. Elliot . . . let's just say the hair and badass ness? yeah, not compensating for _anything_.

"Thank you, doll," Elliot turned to face her, drawing circles on her shoulder with his fingertips.

Not long after completing their work, when Elliot had taken that step forward, Angela had closed the gap and they fell into a very intimate embrace. A few giggles, a few kisses and one short hand-in-hand sprint and they were in the ancient Chinese storage exhibit (formerly known as the ancient Egyptian storage exhibit) in a very large, very old, and very comfy opium wedding bed, naked and sweaty.

Angela smiled, taking her own hand and placing it on Elliot's face, "That was . . ."

"Wow," they said at the same time, then Elliot took over, "You said that already."

"Really?" she asked, "Well, did I say this?" With a firm tug she pulled Elliot back over on top of her.

"No, you most surely did not." Elliot grinned, nipping the artist's neck before falling back into rhythm.

**Author's Note: So, how was it? Got some issues brought up. Any Questions, Comments, Concerns? Just push that little button right there || Thanx!**

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	12. Clean 'Em Up And Ship 'Em Out!

**Author's Note: I know that I'm updating quickly but common! Reviews are abysmal! Please help me out here and feed my muse! Enjoy the after effects of Elliot and Angela's night of passion.**

**Chapter 12: Clean 'Em Up and Ship 'Em Out!**

"Sophie," Nate rapped on the door to Sophie's hotel room. It was 8:00 the next morning; their plane would leave at four that afternoon. The grafter hadn't left her room all night and Nate hadn't heard a peep from any of the rest of the team. This worried him. Elliot and Parker he hadn't expected to show but Hardison being missing was not something that made him all warm and fuzzy inside. "Sophie, please come out. I," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then Sophie's door opened and a fully dressed and makeuped English woman appeared, very chipper, "Finally! I thought I would never break you down. God Nate, who taught you to talk to women?" She flipped her bag over her shoulder and sauntered out of the room, stopping in the hall, "Well, are you coming?"

Hardison was at the bus station, head in his hands. After storming off he had gone to the arcade he found, schooled some kids in Mrs. Pac Man until the arcade closed at three, then he went to the bus station to wait. Four or five busses had passed and he still hadn't gotten on one, but he had finally decided: he _would _be getting on the next bus. Just as the transportation rounded the corner he remembered that he had left his stuff in the hotel. With a growl he realized he didn't care, he would send for it later. Hardison stood as the bus doors opened.

In front of the bus pulled up a Hyundai Genesis (those shameless product pluggers *grumble grumble grumble*), blocking any hope of the bus leaving.

Hardison glared at the car, pausing at the door to the bus.

"Hardison," the passenger window rolled down and Sophie reached out, coffee and a donut bag in hand, "stop your pouting and get in the damn car."

When Hardison didn't rise to the bait, Sophie sighed and reached out another hand which held Hardison's I-Pod.

Damn, she had him. The hacker stepped out of the bus and got in the back seat, snatching the offerings from Sophie. "Ya'll lucky I don't feel like leaving right now, that's all I'm sayin'," his voice was only mumbled so Sophie and Nate didn't know what he was saying.

Booth was disturbed, that was the only way he could describe the emotion he felt after twelve hours of watching that blonde girl shinny through the vents and pick all of the locks in the lab "to see if it was safe enough for Dr. Brennan." Sure, he had tried to assure her that everything was perfectly safe and anyway, he had a gun, but she would not be convinced.

Now she slid out of a vent above Dr. Brennan's office door. "I have to say Seeley," Parker said as Booth awkwardly eased her down. Once on the ground she put her hands on her hips in a very matter-of-fact way, "It was far too easy for me to sneak in and out of here."

Booth had nothing to say to this. To think, just two days ago he never thought that he would be having this much fun. He looked toward Brennan who was standing at Hodgins' desk, she shrugged. Really she was amused by the girl, even she would admit that the lab could use some fun every now and then.

Hodgins even enjoyed it, though he was slightly worried about Angela and that other guy. He hadn't seen them all night. "I haven't found anything that can connect a human being to Mr. Carson," he reported. "As far as I can tell, he could have shot and buried himself and we'd be none the wiser." He had to laugh as Booth lost his balance trying to get the Parker girl to the ground again after yet another trip into the vents and they both toppled over.

"Well, our plane leaves at four so you can keep looking," Brennan left his desk and went to be sure Booth was alright.

Just then Cam burst through the doors into the lab, "Um, is there any reason our alarms are being triggered?"

Parker popped her head out of the vent, "Nice response time."

Cam hesitated, "Well," she opened and closed her mouth a few times until Brennan told her that she could disengage the alarms, "Um, just, get Bond out of the air ducts." As she left Nate, Sophie and Hardison came into the lab.

"Parker, come out of the vents," Nate didn't even have to look up to know where she was. "Well, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan," he nodded to each in turn, "are we ready to head back to the Lone Star State?"

"Almost," for Brennan things were getting more fun by the moment; she had never had the chance to work this closely with criminals, her own father not-withstanding. "Good morning, Mr. Ford, I do not believe that you have introduced us to your friend." Sophie had already held out a hand to shake.

"My apologies, this is Sophie Devereaux."

"It is good to meet you Dr. Brennan, I have read all of your books," Sophie smiled brightly. And this wasn't a lie, she had read and even enjoyed the thrilling adventures and mystery the woman had written, though Nate had thought this a lie.

"Yes, I am sure many people have read my books." This was never meant to be rude, no matter how many times Brennan said it, she though it a perfectly valid comment to be made, and accurate.

"I see you found my thief, Agent Booth," Nate laughed as Parker slid out of the vent for the last time, "now what have you done with my hitter?"

As if called Elliot came through the doors, his hair hurriedly tied back and his cloths wrinkled, "Hey guys, aren't ya'll a bit early?" A grin.

Parker joined the gathering near the door, "Hey Elliot, where have you been all night? We missed you." She scrunched her nose, "And why is your shirt buttoned crooked . . . and that smell?"

Before Elliot could respond Angela came up behind him; her clothes were equally disheveled but she smelled better, "Um, Elliot, there are showers just back there," she pointed down the hall, "you can shower." She smiled to the assembled people, "Oh, hello, nice to you again Mr. Ford, Mr. Hardison," she looked at the blonde, "um, Parker." Parker nodded with a "Hiya!" "And you are?" she turned her attention to Sophie.

"This is Sophie Devereaux, she is a thief," Brennan offered helpfully.

"Well, I prefer 'grifter', but thank you, Dr. Brennan." Elliot had already left the group to freshen up.

Angela grinned and held out her hand, "Nice to meet you Sophie, I'm Angela."

Hodgins was looking from Angela to the missing Elliot. He didn't have a doubt what had happened last night. It was alright, he and Angela had broken up a year ago, and she had been with a few men . . . and a woman in that time (When Angela told Elliot about this the night before he had grinned broadly and asked for pictures) and he was fine with it. Now, if only he could really convince himself of that. "Dr. Brennan, I'll go on a donut run, any special requests?"

"Yes," she said, "those doughy spheres with chocolate and sprinkles, please."

"Those are donut holes, Bones," Booth was trying hard to get the image of Angela and Elliot out of his head.

"Oh, and strawberry for me please!" Hardison called.

Hodgins nodded and left the lab, leaving the two teams sitting in awkward silence, except for Angela and Sophie who found that they had a lot in common and were up in the loft talking.

Hardison was just short of fuming; really it was more of a hurt kind of fuming than an angry one, as he walked down the hall en-route to his car.

"Hey man," Elliot passed him, hair stringy and wet but he was wrestling it back into a ponytail.

He hadn't meant to start anything, hadn't wanted to make any show that Elliot had moved into his territory, but as their shoulders brushed in the hall he couldn't hold it in. Hodgins froze in the middle of the hall, his shoulders going ridged. 'Easy Hodgins don't sound too confrontational,' he coached himself. Turning, he glared after Elliot, "Hey, what was that about?" He was struggling to keep his breathing under control. He wasn't sure why this one guy bothered him so much, could have been his "I'm so cool" attitude, his hair (possibly) but, to tell the truth, he thought it was the eyes. They were the same color as his, weren't they? Everyone had told Hodgins that his most distinguishing feature was the eyes but here this guy was, blue eyes and all, taking _his_ Angela. He quickly realized that Elliot was waiting for another response. "Where do you get off?" He stepped toward the hitter, "You come in here, break into Dr. Brennan's office, threaten Agent Booth, _and_ sleep with Angela all on the same day!"

Elliot grinned, not quite catching Hodgins meaning, "Well, there was no actual _sleeping _involved –"

"That's what I mean!" Hodgins grew more irate, "You know we were engaged?"

"No, I only knew about that girl, Roxie," he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Now Hodgins was mad at more than just "pretty boy," why hadn't Angela told him about their engagement? "You know this means we have to fight," he put up his fists, undeterred by the height Elliot had on him, "for Angela's honor."

Elliot couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing, "Really, do you even know who I am?" Elliot had his hands in his pockets, completely relaxed as Hodgins rushed him. Easy sidestep and Hodgins was skidding to a stop down the hall.

The man was fast, he'd give him that, but, blinded by anger, Hodgins didn't see that he should stop and instead rushed Elliot again. Now Elliot didn't move and instead flipped the scientist over his hip and sprawled him out on his back. "Believe me man; you _don't_ want to do this."

Hodgins shook it off and got to his feet, swaying a little.

"Fine, I'll give you one free shot," Elliot pointed to his jaw, inviting Hodgins to take a swing. Swing he did, no sooner making contact then Elliot made contact with his gut and, with one hit to the nose, felled him again. "Stay down this time damnit, then you can feel accomplished that you stood up for her dignity."

Again Hodgins declined and made to sit up, getting a huge head rush and having to sit back, his nose streaming blood. "Okay, I'm done," Hodgins voice was just a whisper, "but please, don't hurt her." He groaned.

Elliot sighed and walked over to him, kneeling, "I ain't gonna hurt her. Put pressure on that, don't tilt your head and you should probably sit up."

It was at this point that Nate came around the corner, followed by Booth. "Damnit Elliot, what are you doing?" To the mastermind it appeared that Elliot was still beating on the poor, bleeding scientist. "Get off of him!"

Elliot dropped all ministrations, "He started it."

"I don't care who started it, I'm going to finish it if you don't leave that man alone and go back into the lab," this was not the first time that he felt like he was babysitting a bunch of infantile fugitives. As Elliot passed him, "And you had best not bother the nice doctors in there!"

"Yes Father!" Elliot shot him a certain hand gesture over his shoulder.

"Are you okay Dr. Hodgins?" Nate watched, hands in pockets as Booth helped the poor man to his feet, "Though I must say, picking a fight with Elliot, let's just say you got off very easily. Consider yourself lucky you caught him on a good day." Booth could contest to that but didn't.

Sophie and Angela were bonding over a Monet painting the artist had scanned into her machine and made 3-D varying the colors until it resembled a futuristic landscape that Sophie found oddly beautiful. "These are wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You are very talented; I would definitely steal this if I had a chance."

Angela laughed, knowing that it was just a joke, "I take that as the highest compliment I have received." She flipped through some other of her artworks, showing the grifter each and explaining her process.

"So," Sophie had been waiting for a Segway but, finding none she decided to bring up the subject on her own, "Elliot? How was he, I mean . . . you know?" The brazen bluntness of the comment did not abash Sophie but did cause Angela to balk.

"What are you talking about?" She quickly made herself busy.

"Bloody hell you American's are so prudish!" Sophie poked Angela in the shoulder, "Just tell me, was he any good?"

Angela pursed her lips before breaking into a large grin and sitting next to Sophie on the couch, leaning in conspiritly. "Well, at first I wasn't sure, you know, the compensation thing that most guys have," Sophie nodded, "but then, well, he does have big hands right?" Sophie's eyebrows shot up. "And he can use those hands . . ." Angela enjoyed sharing her story more than she thought she would, Brennan would have been bored with the talk, say "intercourse is not something that you can truly excel at, it is intercourse," and be on her way. She sometimes tried to listen but would soon grow bored of it.

And so went the rest of the day: Booth brought Hodgins to Brennan who ascertained that his nose was indeed broken, Elliot was sent to Dr. Brennan's office like a school boy, Hardison and the now patched up Hodgins were chatting (yes, Hardison was now glad that Elliot had messed with Angela and not him so now he had a friend to talk trash about the hitter with), and Nate and Booth were discussing what would happen when they got to Texas.

At noon thirty Booth, Brennan, Sweets, Hardison, Nate, Sophie, Parker and Elliot all headed to the airport. Hardison had procured the Leverage team tickets (Booth didn't want to know how), and Brennan had bought Booth and her ticket in first class. By five o'clock, they were in the air.

"What, Booth you are not having second thoughts are you?" Brennan asked, Booth had been fidgeting since the plane had taken off. "I mean we are all on the plane together, you cannot just drop this con and leave Nate." She was looking forward to this actually. The thought of working with criminals (only if Booth agreed) sounded fun to her.

"No, Bones," Booth sighed, "We'll go through with it, just don't get to comfortable with them. If they turn on us we have to be prepared. Always prepare for the worst Bones, always."

Two rows behind the couple sat Sweets and Parker. Upon meeting the girl at the airport he just knew there were plenty of untapped reservoirs of crazy that his Psychology-horny hands could delve into and unlock. Anyway, he and Daisy's off-again-on-again was off-again and the thief was cute . . .

"So then I blew up my foster parents . . ."

Psyco, but cute.

Parker, though enjoying Sweets company, felt strange actually sitting still on an airplane.

Nate and Sophie had since made up and were sitting just out of the earshot of Booth and Brennan, chatting to Elliot and Hardison about the plan. "Elliot," Nate was asking, "did you get the files?"

Elliot was playing air marshal again, "Uh, you mean from the Jeffersonian? Uh, I . . . didn't get that far."

Hardison sat by himself in coach, in the back by the bathroom, "Oh, but you could have if you put that 'going far' to productive instead of recreational uses."

"You're just jealous because I was the one with the recreation," he growled. Elliot was also sitting by himself.

"Boys! Knock it off!" Sophie chastised, "You are both behaving like children." (Still sitting next to Sweets, Parker laughed at this, earning strange looks from the psychologist who didn't know about her ear bud.)

"So you didn't do the job that I left you behind for?" Nate rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Elliot, we were counting on you. Now we'll just have to hope that Booth is cooperative enough."

Elliot rolled his eyes, "I got ten reasons he should be cooperative."

"Oh, yeah, that'll work out well," Hardison quipped, "threaten the FBI guy."

"Boys!"

**Author's Note: Now we go back to the con! And back to Texas! What will happen? Will the new alliance last? And what was it that Elliot forgot? Review! Please, when that number goes up it makes me feel that I'm not loved and that everyone hates my story . . .**


	13. From WOW to Psychology

**Author's Note: YAY we hit 30 reviews! My muse is slightly fed and I feel **_**slightly **_**loved. As hinted at in the title this chapter is going to be full of psychoanalysis of the characters. The reason for this is because I always read much too far into any fictional characters and the depth of the characters is how I decide whether I like a particular show or not. Because Bones and Leverage are two of my favorite shows it is no wonder that I have thought long and hard about it. I am sure I am not the only one who does this, so let me know your opinions. As always: Enjoy!**

**Chapter 13: From WOW to Psychology**

As soon as the plane touched down the group headed to the hotel that they had agreed they would all stay in. As luck would have it there were only three rooms available and neither Booth nor Nate wanted to let the other team out of sight, the only remedy? Brennan, Sophie and Parker would share a room, Hardison and Sweets (both joined by a love of WOW and Hardison's bad ass connections and technology) would share a room and Nate, Booth and a glowering Elliot would share the suite. Elliot had already offered to stay in the rental, or even on the street, it wasn't like he hadn't done that before, but Nate insisted that he stay. These arrangements are where they spent their first night back in El Paso, the next day would start the plans to bring down McGill.

Everyone slept well that night, except for Sweets and Hardison who had spent the entire night playing World of Warcraft and watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog on the monitors Hardison had set up. Elliot, after catching his recommended ninety minutes in the bath-tub, had gone down to the gym to work out and was now in the shower while everyone else gathered in the lead men's headquarters.

"Good morning everyone," Nate opened, "today we are going to do something that none of us have ever done, we are going to work _with _the law." Booth wanted to scoff but, Elliot out of the room, was struck by the close-knittedness that the Leverage team had for one another. Nate was truly a charismatic leader and, if records could be believed, was an upstanding citizen until about two years ago. The fact that this insurance salesman could inspire such loyalty from a band of infamous thieves and criminals impressed the seasoned ranger.

Parker raised her hand, waiting expectantly to be called on. She was already dressed for infiltration. "What are they going to do?" she asked after being called on, "We already have a grifter, hitter, hacker and thief: there's not much of an opening for an anthropologist and FBI guy." A normal person would have added "no offence meant Dr. Brennan," but Booth guessed that Parker and Bones had that in common. Sweets had already noticed this while on the plane and had quickly jotted it in the margins of his manuscript on Booth and Brenan.

"You, Parker, are going to take the good doctor under your wing; I need you to infiltrate McGill's office and I have the sneaking suspicion that Agent Booth here won't want one of my men to go in without one of his." Nate turned to face Booth who was sitting a bit apart from the others, "And you are much too large to fit into the ducts that Parker uses, no offence. It's the shoulders," he mimed the size of Booth's shoulders on his own. "Hardison," Nate moved on, "you and Dr. Sweets are going to go through McGill's public files. Doctor, I," a look to Booth, "we want to know if you find anything out of the ordinary." The two nodded. "Sophie, meet McGill, get in good with him, make up your own character but don't oversell it, we may need you to get out of there quickly." The Englishwoman clapped her hands, excited at this order, and Nate moved his attention to Elliot who had just finished dressing and was entering the room, "You are going to go to the office with Dr. Brennan and Parker," he tossed the keys to the car he had rented, "you drive and keep them safe." Elliot nodded, keeping the women safe; it's what he did best. "Agent Booth, you're with me." When the man hesitated he held out a hand, "Unless you have any better ideas," when none were offered he continued. "Okay everyone, we all know our jobs, let's go and steal us a political figure."

Sweets concurred with Booth (had they been speaking telepathically that is), Nathan Ford did have a charismatic air about him, one that drew the once independent and mostly loner thieves together for a common goal; good . . . or what they all collectively saw as good. Though agreed that there were lapses in the law system, Sweets still wasn't fully convinced that they were only doing good, nor was he positive that Nathan Ford was out purely for the good of others. Because of the loss of his child those years ago, a death that surely he himself still felt responsible for, it was very possible that Nathan Ford was using any means necessary to launch his own personal vendetta against the "evil" in the world. When Booth and Nate left the room to work on their own plans, Sweets jotted this down in a clean notebook he had bought just before entering the plane. He as well had been looking forward to this case.

"Well," Hardison pulled his laptop into his lap, leaning back into the couch that Parker and Brennan had just vacated. Elliot had followed them out of the room. "Let's get to work, I'll find the papers and you psychoanalyze them."

Alec Hardison. Booth hadn't given Sweets much information on this guy. (Iceland wanted him in their prisons for reasons the psychologist couldn't even begin to fathom.) From everything Sweets could tell the man could have and should have turned out to be a normal, upstanding member of society. His life of crime puzzled Sweets. As best he could tell, Hardison had only turned to hacking when public and private education bored him. Schools don't try hard enough to keep intelligent and talented students amused, leading many to follow other means of education. Alec turned to the World Wide Web. Sweets didn't blame the man, in fact he felt much more comfortable with this man, guilty of everything that he was charged with, than he did with Zach, even after he found out that the doctor wasn't the one who actually murdered the man.

"Here, put this in your ear," Hardison had debated over whether to give the other team ear buds but, at the insistence of Nate (to keep everything on the up-and-up) Hardison had given in and passed one to Sweets, "you can hear everything that is going on from the others. This is how we communicate on a job, keeps us all safe."

The first thing Sweets heard was Parker saying that they had made it to the office.

Parker: no one knew if it was a first name or a last, because she had no other. There was no doubt in Sweet's mind that she deserved every warrant those countries had after her. She was talented, she was smart, she was bat-shit insane. On the plane he had discovered that she had blown up her foster parents (he still wasn't sure if she had been joking or serious about that, it was hard to tell with Parker) and that led Sweets to believe that she definitely had no role models growing up. In much the same way as Harlow's study with the Rhesus monkeys and the cases of feral children, Parker did not have much positive human interaction, and therefore her "humanness" i.e.: the way she interacted with humans in a social way, suffered greatly. It was also apparent to the doctor that her time with Nate and the rest of the gang must have helped her in this area, she seemed to have forged an almost family-like bond with the other criminals, an especially close one with Sophie, he noted. Also, her need to be touching someone or sitting next to them, showed a distinct lack of love (of course he had already hit that bull's-eye before he noticed the seating arrangement.)

"Parker, could you keep it down," Elliot was grunting, trying to keep his voice low so no one in the office would hear him, "do you want everyone to know we're here?"

Of course, Sweets had already met Elliot Spencer from his imprisonment but since then his impressions of the man had changed greatly. At first he had thought him just a thug who had aspirations of being a bigger thug but after seeing his interactions with his team, including his subordinance to Nate, Sweets now realized there was much more to the man than met the eye. It was obvious that Elliot had never had a strong father figure, which would explain his aggression, a learned trait. The fact that he was, even to his own detriment, protective of the women, must have stemmed from a deeply rooted Oedipus complex (also indicative of an absent or abusive father) which must have outlived his own mother. The man had two options: get stronger or die and he had chosen the less lethal one. The need to get away from everything that he had known, mixed in with his own experiences, Elliot had fallen into the retrieval specialist world. Sweets highly doubted that he had actively sought out this career or that he had immediately agreed to it (the doctor highly doubted that Spencer was a bad kid growing up). Though there were still many unanswered questions about the man (ones that Sweets would continue to search for) he felt suddenly less afraid of him.

A constant background noise was Sophie chatting with McGill's secretary, something about a new partnership with a bogus ranch near Ft. Worth. Her Southern accent was impeccable.

Though not often diagnosed by psychiatrists or psychologists, Sweets was almost confident in labeling her with some sort of dissociative identity disorder even going so far as to say it was a fugue. While she was fully aware of the different characters she played, it was obvious that she was a method actor. She did not merely invent her personas, she _birthed_ them, her own self, whoever she _was_, being too weak, to nubile to handle the world in which she lived. Too soft to live in the real world, Sophie Devereaux was born and molded her own world which justified all of her actions. She was the real danger. She could convince herself that anything was justifiable.

On that note, she too had a lot in common Dr. Brennan. The thought made Sweets cringe.

Hardison had an array of documents on his desktop, "There ya go Doc, psychoanalyze that."

**Author's Note: Thank you all for humoring my psychological ramblings. Did I miss anything? You can look forward to a normal chapter next, hopefully showing exactly what everyone else was doing while Sweets was psychoanalyzing them. Tootles and Review!**


	14. Yeehaw!

**Author's Note: And here's what was going on while Sweets was in his own little world. Yay to my reviewers!**

**Chapter 14: Yeehaw!**

Booth and Nate had been the first to leave the room. Booth still had his broom closet at the precinct and they decided that it would be the best place to talk undercover. "Sit down Mr. Ford," Booth sat behind the small desk and waved Nate into a folding chair on the other side.

"Nate, please call me Nate."

"Okay, Nate, you sent your team out," he had also sent Brennan out which Booth hadn't decided if he liked or not, "it seems like you know what you're doing." Booth was not at all rude during this exchange but he was still a bit on edge. (Yeah, he had made a decision, he did _not_ like that Nate had sent Brennan out with Parker and Elliot.)

"Don't worry," Nate waved off as he sat, "I trust my team and your lady friend is in good hands." Now he began talking business, "Our part of the con –"

Booth stopped him here, "Can we please call it "plan" or something that sounds less illegal?"

"Fine, our part of the plan is to get as close to McGill as possible. Hardison can't find any proof that he is behind this murder or the drug cartel but if we can get close enough using your badge as an umbrella, then we could get somewhere. As for me, I will use Sophie's connections, the ones she is making as we speak, to get myself a job in his company." Nate leaned back and reached into his pocket, pulling something out and offering it to Booth, "As a show of good faith, here. It's one of the ear buds we use to communicate while on a job." Booth watched as the man lowered his head and tone, "Yeah, Hardison, give him his too." Back to Booth, "You will know everything that my team does at all times."

Booth looked at the ear piece before inserting it into his ear, as Nate said he could hear each member of the team, he only had to focus in on who he wanted to listen to. Right now it was Bones who apparently had an ear piece of her own.

"I was not told that I would be breaking into anyplace: I am afraid that I did not come prepared with any black attire." Brennan was sitting in the passenger seat of the rented Genesis, Elliot was driving and Parker was in the middle seat. ("Are we almost there?" she asked leaning forward. Elliot pointed to the built-in GPS, "Yes, and look, no traffic." *insert "ohhh's" and "ahhh's" here*)

Elliot reached into his back pocket and pulled out his toboggan, pushing it into Brennan's hand. He liked the doctor, she seemed like the gray between black and white, kind of like the rest of the team. But he had noticed that her world view was _very_ black and white, mostly led by Agent Booth's view of right and wrong. He was glad that, at least for the time being, his team was in the "white" category.

"Thank you Mr. Spencer." Brennan slid it onto her head, "This is exciting."

Elliot grinned, "Call me Elliot."

Even Parker liked this woman. It could be because of their shared social awkwardness, though with that they shouldn't be able to function together (or they could communicate telepathically, Elliot couldn't remember which one worked that way.)

Parker leaned forward and poked her head between Elliot's and Brennan's shoulder, "Are you ready to break the law?"

Brennan's mind was instantly brought back memories of something Booth had said, "You have to be bad to develop your frontal lobe." This brought a smile to her face. "Just this once." They were pulling up behind McGill's offices, doing a drive-by to make sure that the vent the blue-prints showed was actually there. Confirming this, they drove off to circle back once plans were laid.

"Be careful, Dr. Brennan," Elliot turned off the car in a gas station parking lot, "this team can get addictive."

Parker pulled out her phone and brought up the schematics Hardison had sent her. "Okay B," Parker began, feeling clever at her new nickname for the doctor, "We're going to go up through the vent, once I get plugged into the server in the basement I'll be able to send information to Hardison. When we get inside we're going to go let Elliot in from this underground tunnel that runs from the old jail downtown." It was the longest shpeal the blonde had done in a while and she was proud of herself. When B didn't have any questions she put her right hand out, "Okay team, let's do this!"

"Yes," Brennan put her hand out on top of Parker's. This was getting fun.

Elliot balked, "I'm not doin' that Parker."

"Common E," this nickname was immediately dropped.

"Elliot," Brennan took her free hand and grabbed Elliot's arm, piling it on top of her own.

"Ready, break!"

"Howdy ya'll!" Southern drawl wasn't Sophie's strong suite but she liked the challenge. She was Kelly Harding from Fort Worth. Actually a little town called Paradise a bit away from Fort Worth but if anyone asked "where ya from?" it was much easier to say "Cow Town." Paradise sounded too much like pot-head heaven. She was a red-blooded American, Republican, card carrying member of the NRA, hell of a shot. Every winter she went hunting with her pa and she always brought home bigger and better game than him. (She was glad that she had brought her boots.) Today Kelly was going to McGill to set up a funding. Her pa and she had grown quite a ranch in Paradise and now were looking at bigger and better things to supplement what they weren't making on horse sales. As an added vendetta, Pa Harding (aptly named Bubba) wanted to get into politics. McGill came from similar origins and Kelly would bet that he wouldn't turn down a $10,000 back brace. A "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" situation.

Sophie bounced up the steps, her pig-tails bouncing on her shoulders and her rhinestone belt glinting. She had even donned a red-plaid flannel shirt and starched Rockie's.

McGill's secretary sat behind a large mahogany desk. "Howdy, errrr, Sarah," she had read the placard, "I was wonderin' if Mr. McGill was open to a chat?" It was hard to hide her English lit.

In her peripheral vision Sophie caught Bekka Carson see her and quickly scurry back down the hall.

The secretary had beaufont hair and small spectacles. "What can I tell you ya want, honey?" she seemed nice.

"A little business venture," Sophie leaned against the desk and slid "her" drivers license for the secretary to scan, "My name's Kelly Harding."

"Allrighty Miss. Harding, I'll let him know."

Sophie knew Sarah would be Googling the name. She also knew bogus hits would come up that Hardison had planted.

While she waited, Sophie asked herself, "What Would Kelly Do?" The answer was to excuse herself for a smoke break."

Note and Booth had come to the consensus that it was best to allow Sophie to work her magic this first day and allow the two men to the test the waters with each other and perform "trust falls."

This of course, meant going to a saloon down the street.

They didn't have much time to goof off. As soon as Elliot put the car into park, Parker jumped out and Elliot hefted her onto his shoulders under the vent. Deftly, Parker popped open the vent and wriggled inside. "Your turn B," Elliot decided it was best to go along with Parkers nickname (after getting a subtle threat form the thief). He took a knee but Brennan paused.

"Elliot, you were in a fight not that long ago and judging by how you are carrying yourself you must have hurt a rib (the third one on your right side). For one with my mass to climb onto your shoulders would exacerbate your injuries and cause you much pain." Brennan put a hand on the suspected injury. When Elliot flinched, it was proven.

"You talk too much Doc, I'll be fine just stick close to Parker," he helped Brennan onto his shoulders before standing and lifting her into the vent. Once the door was closed, Elliot got back in the car and drove off; waiting for Parker to tell him they had the door open for him.

In the vent, Parker had made quite a bit of headway, not used to having a gosling following her. Brennan caught up easily enough but It was being quiet that gave her problems. She had to pause and watch how Parker glided before she realized how to barely lift her appendages and move.

"This way B," Parker hissed, waving Brennan to the Elevator shaft they would use to get to the basement where the tunnel was. Parker was the only one with a harness so she had Brennan lay on top of her as she eased her way, feet first into the shaft. The elevator was at the top so they were able to easily slide down to the bottom floor and Parker detached herself and they headed to the tunnel entrance.

Brennan, of course, had loved the drop. Again, Parker and she had a lot in common, both had no fear.

"Okay, Elliot, are you in the tunnel?"

At the old jail it hadn't taken an extensive knowledge to pick the skeleton key lock and make his way into the tunnel. "I'm here," he coughed, that rib screamed in protest, "man, it's dusty down here. I don't think it's used much anymore."

Parker popped the lock and let Elliot in.

"Let us go and steal some useful information!" B almost squeaked, scurrying after Parker in the basement.

Elliot shook his head, he was on baby-sitting duty and he knew it. "Keep it down Parker; you don't want everyone to know we're here!"

Sophie had been given an audience with McGill, well Kelly Harding had been granted an audience.

McGill was intrigued by her father's land holdings and even more whetted by the thought of the general "back brace" Mr. Harding had to offer. Like fellows should always stick together (so long as neither encroached on the other's territory).

"Good morning, Miss. Harding," McGill met Sophie at the door (A/N: I will continue to all her Kelly so don't get confused. If I mean Sophie I'll use her real name, now they are two different people.) with a hand outstretched.

Kelly took the hand firmly: McGill would and did appreciate that, "Hello Mr. McGill, I recoin' ya'll already know why I'm here, so no use wastin' time on pleasantries." She smiled wryly. "I'm here to form a coalition of sorts, between my pa and you, Mr. McGill."

They sat and the man ordered them a picture of sweet tea while Kelly lined out her plan. "That sounds great to me Miss. Harding." ("Call me Kelly, please Conan.") "Of course I will have to view your financial statements."

"What I know, you will know," Kelly shot him that Southern Bell smile Sophie had been practicing all night. "I'll have my people call your people. Goodbye Mr. Conan."

McGill saw her to the door, "You do that Kelly, I look forward to a lucrative partnership."

A few shots in, Booth and Nate were getting along fine. They had even made plans for Nate to come up and meet _his_ Parker. The mastermind had quelled as many of the agents fears about the team as he could and now Booth wasn't listening intently for any sound of trouble: the team had it under control. Anyway, Sophie was out and soon Bones, parker and Elliot would as well.

Down in the basement server, Parker wasted no time setting her tap, first allowing Elliot to scan for cameras. "This will take a few minutes," she said to Brennan, then, to Hardison, "Hey are you getting this?"

_"Yeah baby, totally gold, girl,"_

"I'll guard the door," Elliot went back outside, this had been too easy, something didn't feel right. If it were just him down in the basement, the hair on the back of his neck wouldn't be standing on end but the fact that he was responsible for Parker and B worried him. "Hey, Nate, you getting any buzz on this?"

The only thing he heard was slightly drunken banter.

"Damit."

No sooner had the curse left his mouth, then he heard noises form the direction of the stairwell.

"Ladies, we better be packing it up in there," Elliot hissed into the com, rapping lightly on the door.

"I'm hurrying Elliot." Parker.

"What is wrong Elliot," having been caught up in the moment, Brennan was surprised to hear the worry in Elliot's voice.

"We got company." Shadows were being cast and by the sounds of the men they knew the team was there. "Let's go!" Now he opened the door and shuttled them out. Parker just had time to grab the drive and slide it into her pocket.

They made it to the tunnel entrance before their pursuers came into view. Elliot hauled open the door and ushered Parker through it. Just as Brennan made it to the doorway, and before Elliot had a chance to shut the door to protect her, a guard leveled his gun at her.

The gunshot violently wrenched Booth out of his comfort zone. What name had Elliot shouted? It was Bones. Right before the gunshot and now the three in the tunnel said nothing. Nothing intelligible anyway, just shouts.

Nate had heard this too and his alcohol-flushed face paled. He wished he had put a button camera on someone.

**Author's Note: Ha ha! Cliffhanger! Review little goslings! **


	15. Much Ado About Something

**Author's Note: Say thank you little goslings for those who reviewed for this swift update! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 15: Much Ado About Something**

"Brennan!" Elliot shouted as soon as he had seen the gun. He threw himself in front of her just as the gun fired. The door slammed shut, "Run the car's waiting!" Brennan had fallen to the ground so Elliot pulled her to her feet and set her after Parker. All of their com's had fallen out. The three of them reached the jail at the same time and before the guards were able to get the door opened (Parker had jimmied the door open for them to get back through, upon shutting it locked from both sides). "Parker, you drive," Elliot tossed her the keys before falling into the back seat himself. Brennan got in on the other side as Parker threw it into drive and sped off before they had any tails.

"Are you girls alright?" Elliot breathed.

"Yes, we are fine, but I believe that you are shot," Brennan was trying to look at Elliot's back.

He grinned painfully, "What gives you that idea?"

Brennan frowned, "Well because you are bleeding."

"That was sarcasm B." He reminded her of Booth there.

"You just saved my life, let me see your wound," Brennan eased Elliot forward and saw that the bullet had hit him in the back of the shoulder, around the scapula area. "You should see a doctor."

"'Fraid that's not possible B," Parker said from the driver's seat as Elliot laid back. She had slowed down now so as not to draw undue attention to their getaway and was making it back to the hotel, hoping that the others would meet them there. "Elliot's kinda wanted in a bad way," she said somberly, "we all are . . ."

They soon reached the hotel and somehow managed to sneak Elliot up to the room, he hadn't lost enough blood to make him unable to travel under his own power.

Just as they had hopped everyone was waiting for them, worried looks on their faces. "We're alright," Elliot said upon entering the room, "just a little scrape."

"Elliot was shot," Brennan was a tattle-tale. "But he can't go to a hospital."

Hardison pulled out a chair from the small desk and put it in front of Elliot who sat backwards in it.

"Let me see it now," Brennan began pulling the hitter's shirt off of his shoulder and ordering for clean towels and alcohol if it could be found.

Between Elliot's attempt at lighthearted banter about how Bones wasn't a real doctor and her hot retorts, Booth had sunk down on one of the beds. He had thought that she was dead, and now, as Brennan told the story while working on the hitter, Elliot had saved her life by taking a bullet for her. _ He_ had never done that, had he?

"Sophie, do you have tweezers? Large ones please," Brennan was saying.

Elliot hissed in pain.

"Sorry, the bullet is lodged in your scapula, actually a bit of good luck." A few minutes later Brennan had the bullet out but Elliot was getting dizzy from blood loss. Finding a darning kit in the dresser drawer, and hating herself for not having an actual medical kit on her person, Brennan sewed up the wound and wrapped gauze from the meager kit the hotel room had in the bathroom. She then employed Nate and Hardison to help Elliot to the bed. "He just needs to rest, he should be fine but if anyone has ibuprofen it could help, give him three."

Booth waited outside for Bones. When she joined him, he wrapped his arms around her.

"You were wrong about him." It wasn't at all accusing, but Booth still hated hearing it from her. Except for the fact that _she_ had actually said it which meant she was still alive.

"I know Bones," he let her go, "I'm just glad that he was there."

"Let us go back inside," the concern that had etched the doctor's face during the impromptu surgery was replaced by a grin; "I think that they are speaking about what Parker and I stole."

Booth couldn't help but smile, "Okay Bones, but don't make this a regular thing. This was an extenuating circumstance."

Inside everyone was indeed convening on what Parker had lifted from the drives. The team was assembled around Elliot's bed so that the hitter could see the computer screen without sitting up. Brennan went to the couch, sitting between Sophie and Parker. Booth hung by the door. Hardison was explaining what was on the disk and what it did or didn't prove.

Booth immediately felt foolish, here he was, Mr. Popular, Mr. Everyone Has Always Liked Me and he had ostracized himself from a group of people because they were sometimes (okay mostly) on opposite sides of the law. Even socially awkward and supper smart Bones and (well he was just him) Sweets had been accepted into their party. He wasn't trying to feel sorry for himself, he wasn't pouting but he knew that he had many apologies to pass out.

"Hey, Agent Booth," it was Hardison calling him, "get your rear up here so I can begin class."

From the bed Elliot waved a hand motioning him over to join the group. With a sigh he complied, sitting on the arm of the sofa closest to Parker and between where Sweets was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What this shows us is that McGill does absolutely nothing through his fancy offices," Hardison concluded, "There is nothing wrong with any of these files and Lance over here didn't find anything wrong either. The long and short of it? The mission was a bust. We're gonna have to hope that Kelly Harding can get us some Intel."

Sophie nodded, "She's got him hooked, shouldn't be long now." ("Referring to a character in the third person," Sweets jotted down in his now half-full note book.)

"Okay," Nate clapped his hands, his stomach growling, "Elliot, are you cool here on your own while we all go eat?"

A grunt was his reply, Elliot was already half asleep.

"Well then, let's go." Everyone got up to leave, patting Elliot on the shoulder or saying something (Sophie kissed his cheek in that British way) before leaving. When only Booth was left, he pulled up a chair to the bedside. "Hey, are you still awake?" Elliot's eyes were closed but Booth gave it a shot.

"Yeah, what's up?"

Booth sighed, "Brennan told me how . . . well I heard you call her name . . . you took that bullet for her, didn't you? You saved her life."

Elliot grinned, eyes half closed, "You woulda done the same thing."

"But I didn't, because I wasn't there. I've been unfair to you, to all of you. I'm sorry Elliot." Booth hated being wrong.

"'ey, don worry 'bou eh," drowsiness had set in and Elliot's words were hardly understandable as he put his hand in Booth's in a lazy hand shake.

"Yeah," Booth sat the man's hand back on the bedspread: he was out. "Just don't go and do anything that will make me eat my words." He slid the chair back to where he got it from and jogged out the door and down the hall. Everyone was already piled into the elevator and Nate held it open.

"Run, agent guy!" Hardison teased.

This could be fun.

**Author's Note: Sorry about the kinda short chapter, it just worked out that way. I know, Booth probably got a little OOC there in the end but he and Elliot had to kiss and make up. I'm trying not to let this story spin out of control, I'm good at that so if you think I need to reel something in or if I forget something just let me know. Oh, and it was okay for them to leave Elliot in the hotel room alone because . . . well he's Elliot and I love him so we all know that they're not going to come back to a dead hitter on the bed. Hopped you liked this chapter. Questions? Comments? Concerns? PLEASE drop me a line in that REVIEW box.**


	16. Locks and Emails

**Author's Note: Wow a record low on reviews . . . one . . . PLEASE REVIEW IT WILL HELP ME GET THROUGH THE WEEK! The faster you review, the faster I upload!**

**Chapter 16: Locks and E-mails**

By the time the team got back from lunch, Elliot was sitting up in bed, Hardison's laptop across his kneed. In fact, the only indicator that he had been shot only two hours ago (other than the soiled bandage on his back) was the slight difference in the way he held his shoulders: and that only Brennan noticed.

"Elliot shouldn't you still be asleep?" Nate questioned.

Parker by-passed pleasantries and hopped into bed next to Elliot, trying to sneak a peek at the screen before he Alt-F4'ed it. Not being let to see what Elliot had been working on, Parker crossed her arms and pouted.

Nate noticed Elliot's quick cover and decided that he really _didn't_ need to know what he had been doing.

Brennan tended Elliot's shoulder again while the other's put on a movie at the behest of Parker who hadn't moved from the bed. And so the rest of the afternoon went until Sophie's phone rang.

"Angela," Hodgins had been following Angela around the lab for the past hour and a half, ever since he had realized that she was ignoring him. "I'm sorry, I just . . ." he sighed, almost ready to give up. "I still love you Ange, and seeing him . . . Wendell I can understand but then the pregnancy scare and . . . you just met the guy and you took him to the wedding bed!?"

Angela now rounded on him, "It's not like we got married and it was just a thing! We agreed on it ahead of time; no strings attached." Now she poked him in the chest, "You saw his eyes, didn't you? You're jealous that you both have that in common but he's better looking than you."

Hodgins felt about the size of a pea, "Maybe."

"Don't worry Hodgins; I probably won't see him again." Before she turned to leave, she pointed to the scientist's bandaged nose, "You may want to ice that more; your face is turning colors it shouldn't be."

"Howdy again Mr. McGill," Kelly shook McGill's head. Sophie's ring had been meant for the Texas girl, luckily that just so happened to be how Sophie answered it. After thinking it over for the day, he had come to a decision and "could you please meet me back in my office at your earliest convenience." "This is my fiancé Bill Case," Kelly introduced Nate. "Terribly sorry but Pa developed pneumonia somethin' fierce and won't be able to join our meetings. Bill is here in his stead."

"How ya don'?" Nate's nerves ground as the drawl came from his lips.

"I'm just fine. I hear your father-in-law is interested in making a deal?" McGill stroked his Beard-of-the-month 'stache and sat down his clippers. "I spoke to your woman earlier."

Nate/Bill sat down in the chair McGill pointed to, Kelly sat on the arm of it. "Of course, are ya in?"

McGill paused for dramatic effect, "Of course."

Nate and Kelly made the deal with McGill and then went back to the hotel room. No one had moved and were now watching Firefly. Parker was asleep on Elliot's good shoulder and the hitter seemed much more interested in the TV show then anyone had thought. Even Brennan was enjoying it. Sweets and Hardison had that "I told you so" look showing that they had had to joint beg to get it played.

"Well, we got him baited," Nate sat down in a chair, "$10,000 in exchange for political support in Paradise. Now we just have to wait to set the hook and then ease Kelly further into his dark ring."

Booth felt that he should not be hearing this.

"I like that Jayne guy," Elliot whispered so as not to wake up the thief.

"What's up with Rain?" Parker was mumbling, apparently she wasn't as asleep as they had thought, "There's something _wrong _with her."

"Well you see," Sweets turned around in the couch to face her, "she has been basically lobotomized . . . and you are actually asleep, aren't you . . ."

Elliot shrugged, shifting Parker into a more comfortable position, "She talks in her sleep."

"I like Mal," Booth got up to head down into the lobby. No one had thought that he was really watching the show.

Booth was on the phone to his office still, Brennan had opted to stay in the room. It had been three episodes since Booth left and now Parker was awake.

"I have a job for you Parker; Elliot, you're going to go with her."

Elliot pulled himself out of bed, dragging Parker behind him. "Common darlin' we got work to do." He may have muttered something about no respect for the injured but no one could exactly tell.

They were at the hotel where the body was found just after nightfall; Nate wanted Elliot and Parker to see what more information they could get from the crime zone. Parker was crawling under the floor boards using the hole Mr. Carson was pulled out of as an entrance. "Hey, Elliot, I found something down here!" Parker's voice was muffled and came from directly under Elliot.

"Good, bring it back to the hole," the hitter shifted his shoulder which was stiffening; the next round of ibuprofen was wearing off.

The next thing he knew a bowling bag was being hefted out of the hole, followed by Parker. "Let's go," Elliot slid the strap over his arm and helped Parker to her feet, "I'm getting hungry."

At the car the pair met Sweets. "I came to help." He sounded so excited that he had come himself to help that Elliot almost couldn't bear to tell him that they were finished.

Almost, "A bit late for that," Elliot grinned and handed the doctor the bag, "But you can take the little lady to dinner." Without another word Elliot go into the Genesis and drove off.

Parker looked expectantly at Sweets, "I want Dairy Queen."

By the time they made it back to Sweets and Hardison's hotel room, Parker and Sweets had nothing left of their diner save a pair of melting Dilly Bar's. They didn't meet any of the team.

"You don't know how to pick locks?" It was in the middle of a conversation as Sweets dropped the bag inside the doorway; he would show it to Booth later.

"No, it's not a skill that everyone has."

Before he had even made it to the couch, Parker pressed a lock into his hand. Apparently it had come from her small purse that now sat on the counter. Into his other hand, she thrust a hook and tension wench. "Then I'll show you." For a moment, she guided his hands, describing how to pop the tumblers then she let go and allowed him to continue.

"So," Sweets made conversation, "I guess you started picking locks to amuse yourself as a kid?"

"You can read minds?" Parker sat on her heels, leaving Sweets to the lock she had given him.

"N-no, it's psychology, Parker, not telepathy."

"I've had my mind read before and I didn't like it." Something tugged at her chest but she ignored it, not quite knowing what _it_ was. "You're never going to break into a locker that way," she sat next to him and put her hands over his, building the tools into the lock until the soft, satisfying click. When Parker looked up she realized Sweet's face was right in front of hers. Without warning, she out her hand behind his head and quickly pressed her lips to his. The lock clattered to the ground, Sweets hands otherwise engaged around Parker's waist.

Just as suddenly as Parker had moved forward, she pulled back. Sweet's eyes were half-closed. "You taste like orange soda and gummy frogs. Hm, just like Hardison," she bounced off of the sofa and started rummaging through her purse for a stronger lock. "Here, try this one."

Sweet's jaw had dropped, "Um, what was that?"

Parker looked down at the discarded lock, "A two tumbler lock."

Sweets stood up, "No, that kiss. There is no way that that could not have made a blip on your radar. Even the socially depraved can tell what that means."

Parker shrugged, "Hm, never meant much to me. Just seemed like the thing to do."

"Now hold it," sweets took hold of her elbows, "You mean you feel absolutely nothing when you kiss someone?"

Again the tug. "No, should I?"

Sweets was less than five inches from her now. She truly did fascinate him. The doctor leaned in and hovered over Parker's mouth, his breath brushing her cheek.

Parker was confused, but she thought it was a good confused.

Sweets felt the same way, 'You should." His lips brushed hers, just barely before he pulled back a bit. He felt her arms relax until he could put them around his shoulders. Another brush and she took a small step forward, closing the gap between them. Now Sweet's lips stayed on hers for a few moments.

"Did you feel anything?" What Sweets had meant as a demonstration had left him breathless.

Luckily it had the same effect on Parker. Instead of answering, she pushed Sweets back down on the couch, crouching just above him while she deepened the kiss he had started.

Sweets was disappointed with himself, not because of the situation he had gotten himself into, he was loving that, but because she had made the first move. Parker controlled this situation all the way to having Sweets flat against the armrest.

"You're not very good with locks," Parker murmured against his mouth, "But you are."

Sweets sat up, pushing Parker up off of him, "Did you just compare the mind to a lock?"

Parker shrugged, "People are a lot like locks," from her shirt she pulled out a room key, "and some people can't open locks."

Hardison sat outside his room door, searching his pockets for his room key. He couldn't find it.

Elliot was still out, waiting at the diner. He was about to leave.

"Sorry I'm late, I got a flat and had to walk here," MaryLee slid off her shawl and tossed it into the booth across form Elliot. "Have you been waiting long?"

Elliot had stood when she approached the table, old habit his Mama had forced on him. "Not too long. Glad to see you got my e-mail"

MaryLee smiled, "Glad to see you remembered it."

Elliot had had a lot of girl friends; even going so far as to give one a promise ring, and it never failed that as soon as he was reunited with one he fell back in love (or lust whatever the case may be) only he hadn't figured that out yet.

They talked into the night; eventually Elliot walked MaryLee back to her car and changed the tire. He didn't mention the bullet; MaryLee had enough to worry about.

"So, ya'll are really going to bring down Daddy?" Now they were in her truck at a park, two bottles of beer open in removable console in the floor board.

"That's the plan," Elliot's arm was along the back of the bench seat of the '87 Chevy. "I can't believe you still have this thing, it reminds me of when we were kids." Elliot chuckled, lightly kicking the glove box which opened under the abuse.

"Hey, be nice to Jackson!" MaryLee leaned across to shut the door, pausing when Elliot's familiar scent hit her nose; she was almost wrapped in his arms.

Elliot noticed this too and, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to have her in his arms again. "Stop it, I got it." He collected the girl's hands and kicked the glove box closed with his foot. Before he could pull her into his shoulders she lurched forward, catching his lips with hers and tangling her fingers in his hair.

"Elliot, I missed you."

"I know MaryLee," he deftly maneuvered her parallel with him and leaned her down against the seat, pulling the lever to set the steering wheel up.

Her hands began tugging his undershirt out of his pants before sliding up his back, she barely noticed the bandage before her fingers dug into his shoulders –

Nate and Booth were already awake by the time Elliot got back to the hotel room. "Hey, why is Hardison sleeping in the hall?" Elliot let the door shut behind him despite Hardison's pleas to use the bathroom. When he saw the two men staring at him he paused, "Okay guys, now what did I do?"

Nate answered, "Didn't you have Parker last night?"

"Yeah, that psychiatrist guy brought her back here I thought – did she not come back?" Nate had already pushed passed him and was looking back out in the hall where Hardison was still laying, muttering incoherently.

"Okay, maybe he did . . ."

Booth made an "eeessshh" face.

Elliot crinkled one side of his nose, "I don't want to know." He tried to push past Booth to his overnight bag but Nate began talking again.

"Then that makes two of my crew who . . . good Lord I can't even say it . . ."

"Got lucky?" Booth offered.

Elliot was halfway through a shirt change, "Hey woah woah, what? I didn't _do_ anything last night!" (Which was true. Insert flashback from last night:

_(Her hands began tugging his undershirt out of his pants before sliding up his back; she barely noticed the bandage before her fingers dug into his shoulders._

_("Aaah!" Elliot hissed, the girls fingers had hit his wound. "Damnit woman!" He fell against her, his shoulder giving out with the pain. _

_("What? What's wrong Elliot?" MaryLee took his weight and pushed him up. "Are you hurt?"_

(Needless to say that killed the mood.)

"Sure you didn't," it was Booth.

"Ya know what man, shut up!"

"Okay, we can stop arguing about Elliot's real or imaginary sex life." Great, Nate had yet another child to sit.

"Where _did_ you go yesterday" Nope, Booth wasn't done yet.

"Out. Tried to take the good Doctor with me but . . ." he grinned suggestively.

"Elliot!"

"Sorry, geesh!" Elliot shrugged and left, "I'm going to find Parker."

Nate watched him pass, "Fine, I'll be talking to later." It was a threat.

Elliot waved over his shoulder, "Yeah."

Now Booth turned his attention to Nate, "Nice crew ya got there." It wasn't an attack.

"At least they aren't trying to kill each other anymore," Nate pulled on his shoes while sitting on the edge of the bed.

Booth sat across from him. "Listen, I know about your son –"

"I don't want to talk about Sam."

Booth held u a hand, "I don't either. It's just . . . how did an upstanding man like you end up with those guys?"

Nate was done with his shoes and leaned across the gap, elbows on his knees, "I don't think you would believe me if I told you."

"Probably not, but try me."

_**"Good God!!**_" the door flew open and Elliot stomped back in, "I found Parker."

**Author's Note: Remember, please feed my muse and review. Even if it's a flame "GAAAAHHH IVORY, I HATE YOUR STORY YOU SHOULD JUMP OFF A BRIDGE AND KILL YOUSELF!!!!" I will say, "thank you for your suggestion and will take it into consideration."**


	17. Stroking the Coals

**Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry for the late upload, I've been out of town and didn't carry my computer. **

**Chapter 17: Stroking the Coals**

"Well, I have those pictures and financial statements you wanted Mr. Conan," Kelly pulled a manila folder out of her over-sized purse and passed it across the desk. "What do you think?"

Kelly and Nate were back with pictures of the "ranch in Paradise" (Hardison wouldn't tell them where the pictures came from.)

"Everything look's good on my end," McGill had been silent for a few minutes while he pursued the pictures. "I'm in; do you have the grease to make this go over easier?"

Nate/Bill held up his smart phone (A/N: another plug) and pushed a button to where McGill could see it, "$10,000 has just been wired into your overseas account. Enough 'grease'?"

_"I can't do anything with that . . . except maybe tax evasion but we have bigger things to look at," Booth whispered into the com, "Keep digging."_

"Well then, I have a three o'clock, can we meet tomorrow to finalize this?"

"Of course," Nate stood, "Honey, I'll meet you back at the hotel." He kissed Kelly on the cheek before exiting the room.

Kelly stood and made to follow him. "Separate cars," she explained, "I am on my way to a massage appointment." She opened the door; looking out down the hall to be sure Nate was gone. Then she turned to address McGill, "And I would be your three o'clock." Kelly sat back down. "Now, Mr. Conan, I'm sure you have been wondering why I chose to come all this way for political leverage."

McGill leaned forward and steepled his fingers, "I assumed it was because I am one of the best, but go on."

Kelly mimicked his stance, "I know you are into other dealings, Mr. Conan. I had planned to come in easy, however, I'm pressed for time, you see. Father does not have long now and if we want to take over the town it will have to be Bill and I and . . . well," she sat a glance over her shoulder, "Bill is a few straws shy of a hay stack." She pulled a piece of paper from her bra, "My brother Leroy is wantin' to take over the farm and, well I just can't let him do that. This means, Conan that I will have to have a way to buy him out of his shares."

"How do you suggest that I help you do that?"

Kelly raised her eyebrows, "Why darlin', I have 10,000 more reasons for you to find a way, right here."

McGill took the paper Kelly held to him which held the number to a bank account. A few clicks on the computer and McGill turned back. "I may just have what you are looking for." He reached into his desk and pulled out a stack of blue post-it notes. "This address is for your eyes only. Meet my colleague there at 10:27 tomorrow night. No later and I don't want you stepping a foot out of your car any sooner. Do you hear?"

Kelly smiled, "Of course Conan. We are colleagues after all."

"Really, just like that he gave you this?" Booth held the blue paper out in front of him.

Sophie tossed a braid over her shoulder, "Well, Kelly can be quite persuasive."

Nate crossed his arms, "You didn't have to call me stupid."

"Kelly was insulting Bill, not me you."

(Sweets took notes.)

"Well, I'm sure Bill is cheating on Kelly anyway," Nate had picked up a few things from Sophie.

"Actually, Kelly has two boyfriends and a gigolo on the side, sorry Bill."

Booth was on the phone again by the time this fight escalated and Sweets was brought in to analyze the characters the pair had invented and decide who would, in fact, cheat on who. (Kelly was cheating on Bill and he had no clue. However, when he did eventually find out he would get a mistress and they would then go to swing parties together. After which Kelly would still feel smothered and eventually either kill Bill or emotionally castrate him before leaving him for her personal trainer.)

"This is agent Booth, I want you to put a feeler out for anyone attempting to draw or transfer funds anywhere around this number: 5558698754. Just tell them that it is a part of an ongoing investigation, thank you." Booth closed the phone and slid it into his pocket. Brennan was at his shoulder.

The doctor smiled, "This case is getting better and better." Brennan pointed back over her shoulder, "Apparently Kelly and Bill are not as happily married as they claim to be. And Elliot and Parker have been missing for some time. Did you know that Hardison likes Parker? I didn't either but Sophie told me that is why he ran out last night." Here she took a breath, "Parker and Dr. Sweets . . ."

"Yeah Bones," Booth waved her off.

"What's wrong Booth? I can tell, there is always a catch in your voice when something is wrong. You can tell me."

"It's just," Booth sighed and slid an arm around Brennan's waist, "I want to do a little investigating on my own, okay Bones?"

"So . . . uh . . . you and the doctor seem to be *cough* getting along . . ." Being the team's honorary "big brother", Nate had declared that it was Elliot's job to talk to Parker after he had found her the night before.

Parker crunched on a French-fry that Elliot had bought her. "Uh hu," she nodded, "he's very nice."

"Uh, yeah, I figured that." Good Lord and butter he did _not_ want to do this. "But, um . . ."

"He's also very good you know. I can see why you always are hitting on those girls on jobs – could you pass the katsup?"

Elliot passed the bottle, "Parker, it's not the same I –"

The girl spoke with a full mouth, "And I heard Angela say something about your hands," she took one of them and held them up to her own as if to confirm, "Sweets doesn't have big hands like yours but I really don't think that matters any."

Elliot fake-smiled and pulled his hand back, feeling the sudden need to disinfect. "Yeah, I'm sure but you see –"

Again Parker interrupted, "And he could hold out all night!"

"_**Parker!**_" Elliot had heard enough. At the terrified look Parker gave him, Elliot immediately felt sorry. "Give me some of those French-fries." He took a hand full before he continued talking, "I only want to make sure that you don't get hurt." When Parker didn't meet his gaze he dipped a fry in katsup and held it out for her. She didn't take it so he smeared the red sauce on her face. This brought a smile. "And for the love of all that is holy, _never_ try to tell me about your sex life again!"

**Author's Note: I know, kinda short, I'm running low on ideas. I know how this ends I just gotta keep the momentum going until then. Ideas, comments would be **_**greatly**_** appreciated! I just love the Elliot/Parker brother/sister dynamic! What say you? Please review!**


	18. Familiarity Breeds Hostility

**Author's Note: Here ya go! Chappie 18 . . . that's all I got for now so ENJOY! R&R please!**

**Chapter 18: Familiarity Breeds Hostility**

"Well, Agent Booth, I wasn't expecting to see you," McGill cleared some papers off of is desk when the agent and his doctor friend stepped into his office.

Booth smiled and sat himself down in one of the chairs across the desk, "That's me, just full of surprises." Brennan followed him.

"What brings you here so late in the afternoon?"

"Just wanted to talk," Booth pulled a packet out of his jacket and picked out some pictures from the file. "You know that I'm heading the investigation into the death of Willy Carson."

"I believe that I have given you all of the information that I have," McGill had on bushy eyebrow raised.

"I know, just trying to get as much information as possible into how Mr. Carson ended up under your hotel." Booth spoke kindly but with as much authority as his FBI suite usually held. "If you have _any_ clues, pictures, videotapes," in his mind he added, "other than what I've already seen."

McGill chuckled, "There used to be a security camera down there, all VHS but I may have the tapes still back in storage somewhere." He picked up his phone and pushed a button, "Yeah Sarah, could you see if we still have those tapes from the old hotel. Thank you." He turned back to Booth, "She'll bring 'em when she finds 'em," he held out a bowl of sweets he had on his desk. "Help yourself."

They were butterscotch so Booth took one; Brenan said, "No thank you."

It took near an hour for Sarah to find the tapes but soon came back up with them. "Here ya go Mr. McGill. I wasn't sure which ones so I brought up the whole lot." She had about fifteen eight hour VHS's in her arms. "But I could only carry the latest ones."

Booth got up to help, taking half of the videos off the top, "When are these from?"

"Thank you Mr. Booth." She blew a strand of hair out of her face, "These are from four years ago," she checked the sides, "looks like January through July." When Booth seemed puzzled that there wasn't more videos footage, she explained, "Those video cameras are old, Mr. Booth, they often work sporadically. That's why we disengaged them three years ago."

"Thank you, Sarah." He motioned Brennan to take the remainder of the tapes. Before they walked out the door Booth addressed McGill again, "Thank you Mr. McGill."

"Please, Agent Booth, call me Conan. And, if you need anything else, please let me know. And if you could keep me informed it would be greatly appreciated."

Back in the car, VHS's cluttering the backseat, Booth was the first to speak, "He was very forthcoming."

"I still don't like him," Brennan didn't trust him.

"Bones, that's only because you've been listening to the team. We have to be objective about his." He was driving to the police station. It was 10:00p.m. McGill must have been working late. "The fact is: Everything that we've learned from that team we have to keep on the back-burner until we learn for sure what's going on." It wasn't that Booth distrusted the team; he just didn't fully trust them.

"Booth," Brennan's voice was low, "Elliot was shot saving me. Why would he fake that?"

"I'm not saying that they're bad people Bones, it's just –"

"But by your standards they aren't good either! Booth, if McGill isn't the bad guy then why would those men in his office have shot at us?" Her voice was quickly gaining volume.

"Bones! When they shot at you, you were illegally sneaking into his office complex with two thieves? Of course he would shoot at you!" Booth immediately felt ashamed for raising his voice to his partner. After an awkward silence: "You know what Bones? There's a Dairy Queen between here and the station, what say we go there? Hm?"

From the corner of his eye he could see her smile, "Only if we get a Dilly Bar."

Sophie was just coming through the door into the leader's room from her meeting with McGill. "Not a bloody thing!" Her braids were already undone, her hair flying in all directions. She was clearly upset. "The stupid wanker was trying to have me go in on a _fertilizer_ deal!"

(Sweets, who was sitting by the TV with Parker at his feet, wrote in his notebook that Sophie was not using Kelly's accent but still referred to the personalities actions as her own. This shadowed his DID diagnosis with doubt.)

Elliot scoffed from his vantage point on the floor. He was tossing one of Parker's locks in the air and catching it as it spun. "What? Did you really expect him to bite so quickly?"

"Well, no," pink started to creep into Sophie's cheeks. Hadn't she flirted enough? That usually gave her her own way no matter what. "But I rightly didn't expect _fertilizer_!" She paused long enough to look around the room; other than Parker, Sweets and Elliot the only on there was Hardison, still fuming about being locked out of his room the night before. "Um, where are Nate and the others?"

"Easy," Elliot caught the lock and sat up (his shoulder was much better; he had always been a fast healer.) "Nate's downstairs at the bar and Brennan and the Agent are still gone. I gotta tell you," he checked to be sure that Sweets wasn't paying attention and then lowered his voice, "I'm not sure that I trust 'em."

"Oh, you can't mean that," Sophie's voice was high but quiet as she sat down across from Elliot on the floor, "Brennan has been nothing if not kind to you!"

"No," he waved it off, "Not B; Agent Booth, there's just this feeling I can't shake. Like an itch."

"Booth?" Brennan snapped her head off her arm and pushed the play button. "I may have found something." On two different TV's in the prescient evidence room Booth and Brennan had divvied up the VHS's, and were fast-forwarding through rats roaming and teenagers making out. Brennan was four tapes in when she had caught sight of a bound figure being brought into the frame at gunpoint." By how he is walking, I would say that's Willy Carson." His assailant couldn't be seen well save that he had long hair and was male.

Booth pushed closer to Brennan, "Turn up the sound, Bones."

" – Get away with it?" the attacker was saying with a growl. "I will kill you!" POP!

"Booth," Brennan's voice wavered.

On the screen Willy Carson sank to his knees, eyes wide.

"I know Bones," Booth set his jaw, "I know."

Elliot and Sophie still sat conversing in whispers when Booth burst through the door, gun drawn, "Elliot Spencer get on your feet!"

**Author's Note: CLIFFIE!!! Muhahahahahaha, me want's reviews! Pweety pweese! See ya!**


	19. Jayne

**Author's Note: Okay . . . so I'm not getting reviews anymore and it makes me feel bad. If you read and you like (or hate or just "meh") please drop a line. Even if it's just "I liked" I will be forever in your debt . . . you know, in that imaginary way.**

**Chapter 19: Jayne**

"Elliot Spencer get on your feet!"

Elliot looked calmly up from the floor, looking straight down the barrel of the gun. Slowly he got to his feet. "What's up Agent Booth, gone a bit crazy have we?" He laughed dryly, but knew the agent was serious.

Sophie stifled a cry and got behind Elliot, sliding back to the wall. The others looked open-mouthed at the conflict.

"We found the tapes Spencer!" Booth's teeth flashed.

Brennan had made it to the door behind the agent and had tears in her eyes.

The accusation caused Elliot to falter, "What? What tapes?"

"The one's from the basement," Brennan answered, she moved around him to collect Sophie back with the others.

Elliot cocked his head and took a small step forward, "Then you know the truth."

"How could you be so trivial about this!" Brennan accused.

"Trivial! It wasn't anything trivial! Hey I was the victim!" (Of course, _he_ was referring to the tapes Hardison had showed where he was tied to the chair.) "Hardly a reason to shoot me."

"You _killed_ Willy Carson!" Booth spat.

All jaws dropped, Elliot's included. He recovered first and stepped closer to the gun, the barrel was mere inches from his chest. "I didn't kill anyone." (Lie, but he surely didn't kill _this_ anyone.)

"I have proof," with his free hand, the agent pulled the tape out of his coat, "Play that Sweets."

Sweets took the tape and put it in the VCR; it was already keyed up and started when Elliot's voice did. "You think you can get away with this?"

"Elliot?" Parker's eyes were filled with tears when she looked at him. "You're like Jayne from that show. You betrayed us! How could you?"

The hitter didn't falter long and it took only a moment to disarm Booth, ejecting the magazine and discard the bullet in the chamber before tossing the gun under the bed. "I told you Parker, I didn't kill any –"

Booth's shoulder rammed into Elliot's stomach, cutting off his speech.

While everyone else watched the squabble escalate (Elliot had Booth's head between his hands and rammed it into the stove) Hardison plugged his laptop into the VHS player and began analyzing the tape. It was all he could do. Sweets was trying to quiet parker, Sophie and Brennan were watching the fight.

"You conned us! Damnit, why did I ever trust you?" Bones had gotten back onto his feet.

"Because you're an idiot," Elliot was thrown off balance when Booth dove at him.

"It's McGill," Elliot wheezed, grasping Booth's thigh, "He's the one you should be after. I already told you that!"

Booth didn't pause, "I should have never believed you," he put more pressure on Elliot's larynx.

"You saw the –" Elliot had said "data" but the last word was drowned out by lack of oxygen.

From the wings, Parker couldn't wait any longer, with a great battle cry, she escaped Sweets and flew at Booth, tackling him off of Elliot before rolling away.

After catching his breath, Elliot spun on top of Booth, using his greater size to his advantage; he straddled the agent's stomach, pinning his arms down with his knees as he placed his hands on either side of Booth's head. "Four years ago. Do you have a date Willy Carson was killed?" When Booth didn't respond, Elliot rocked forward, putting more pressure on Booth's arms until he broke.

"March! Mid-March, damnit get off of me!"

Elliot chuckled, rocking back, "There now, that wasn't too hard." He punched Booth in the side of the head.

Brennan couldn't decide whether to call of Booth or protect him. "Let the boys fight it out on their own; they'll get tired in a moment and then they'll adjourn to their separate corners," Sophie put a hand on the woman's elbow. She didn't like where this fight was going but she knew that no one could stop it until the men were tired and then they could discuss this rationally. Or until they killed each other, whichever came first.

Booth now had Elliot pressed against the wall, punching him in the gut until he doubled over, blood streaming from his mouth.

"Uh, what's going on?" Nate had come to the door. "Why are they fighting."

Sweets quickly filled him in, "In my opinion we should let them work this out on their own."

Nate, on the other hand, wanted in on the negotiations, "Agent Booth, if you look at Elliot's file you'll see he was causing trouble in Australia at that time, I'm pretty sure the aborigines can confirm that . . . that is if they aren't still upset by the Russian Olympic skaters." This last part was muttered but every one heard it. "He couldn't have killed Carson, and I do believe that he told you such. Now, might I ask – Elliot get off of this nice man." Elliot had Booth pinned again.

"But Nate –"

"Get off, Elliot."

Elliot obeyed, sighing as he fell to his back, breathing hard and bleeding. "Hardison, pull up that picture where we IDed McGill."

"I can do you one better," Hardison's finger flew and he hooked the laptop to the TV, "I got video."

Brennan went to aid Booth and Parker went to Elliot. They all saw the man sitting on the chair.

"That, is me."

Hardison was still fiddling with the video, "Hey, I found a hidden audio file! I'll unzip it."

"I'll kill you!" It was Elliot's voice.

"I'll overlay the two audio files," Hardison did just that. They overlaid perfectly.

Booth was panting, "So . . . Australia, hu?"

Brennan said, "Wow Booth, you were way off on this one."

"Thank you Bones."

Elliot laughed (lightly because he had a few broken ribs) and flipped back his hair, "Yeah, Australia."

Sweets watched parker ease her body behind Elliot's supporting him while he rested back, it was much the same thing that Brennan did. Parker pulled Elliot's hair back and tugged a rubber band off her wrist to hold it back.

This he wrote in his note book along with a side note under Parker's name: "_is_ capable of love."

He returned his attention to the two pairs:

Brennan had her hands low on Booth's arms, her thumbs making small circles on his biceps.

Parker's hands were on Elliot's shoulders.

Sweets crossed out his ending punctuation and added, "of a family."

"Where was I," Nate was pacing and rubbing his chin thoughtfully and Sweets put down his note book, "oh yes; Where did you get your information?"

"McGill gave us the tapes," Booth was being eased to his feet by Brennan. "Okay, let's say that I believe you; what do we do now?"

**Author's Note: Another chapter down: what do you think? Please drop me a line! Oh, and who knows where the title came from?**


	20. On The Road Again

**Author's Note: Sorry for the large gap in uploads! School got in the way. Here ya go!**

**Ch 20: On the Road Again**

"So what do we do now?" Booth had asked.

Hardison shrugged, "There's only one place that we haven't checked. McGill's house. But I gotta warn ya, it's a long shot."

"Whatever shot it is we have to take it," Nate said, standing up. "So," he turned to Booth and Elliot, "are the two of you up to a bit of breaking and entering?"

Booth knew he wasn't going to like this.

The agent and hitter were at the back door of McGill's mansion, it was dark, and Elliot was dressed like a caterer. (The real caterer was unconscious in the back of his van.) The plan was for Elliot to sneak in, and then find a way to get Booth in as well. McGill knew Booth but, hopefully because of how much he had changed, not Elliot. That part went off fine; Elliot had started a mild kitchen fire and had evacuated the kitchen long enough to get Booth in the back door and down into the basement. This would have been fine except for Bones filed into the kitchen just after Booth had been hidden.

"What the hell B!" Elliot exclaimed. (_"B's there!" it was Parker in the com's, "Oh man Elliot! You said that I couldn't come but you invited her!")_

"I wanted to come to help; I always get to go with Booth!" Brennan was making what she hoped was a strong argument for why she should be allowed to stay.

"Damnit," Elliot growled. He was cut off as one of the sue-chefs came back in the kitchen. Before the man could see them, he pulled B and himself into the basement after Booth. Hopefully, no one would miss him. "Take her," Elliot passed Brennan to Booth.

"Bones! What are you doing here?" Booth asked as they started down the hall that lead to an underground network of servers . . . hopefully.

A few hundred feet away from the door Elliot stopped short. "Shh," he put a finger up to his mouth, "I hear footsteps." He ducked behind a corner, hoping that Booth and B would have the sense to do the same.

"I think I say them go this way," it was the footsteps Elliot had heard and now they were less than five feet away.

Booth had Bones by the elbow on the other side of the hall. They were hidden but if the advancer came any closer they would be spotted. He had to be prepared to make a move in case Bones needed him. He had to protect Bones!

Two more feet and Booth could now tell from the shadow that the man was alone, and that he held a gun. Booth checked his holster; empty. Damnit. He would have to –

Elliot saw the problem; Booth and B would be caught if the man got any closer. He sprang into action, keeping low to hopefully avoid being shot again. His shoulder collided with the man's gut before he could react and the gun went off into the air. The two tumbled backward into the hall, giving booth and B enough time to escape.

Booth only snapped out of his shock when Elliot and the attacker hit the concrete. He took a firmer grip on Bones' arm and pulled her further along the hall until they came to an alcove they could hide in. Once Bones was safe, he ran back to help Elliot.

And Elliot did need helping, though he had subdued the first man down the hall, three more followed, each with guns leveled on the hitter.

"Wow, guys, bad response time," he was jeering, "I took your buddy out at least sixty seconds ago."

In a flash Booth decided bolder would be best at his moment. He slid one hand into his jacket like he was reaching for a gun and pulled his badge out with the other. "Elliot, are you regretting that whole 'no gun' thing yet?" To the men he said, "FBI agent Seeley Booth, put your guns down."

"Damnit," Elliot growled, seeing the one of the men's attention turn to Booth. He couldn't have taken out all there men, but he still couldn't take out two at this distance. Booth had done nothing good for them. In fact, he had done the exact opposite. "Booth, they didn't know who we were before." Apparently it was a rule that every FBI agent had to have a lapse of sense at some point in time. Elliot didn't like this revelation; he had thought the agent cool.

Nate was talking into the com, asking if Elliot needed any back up. He growled in response, it was just subtle enough to not draw attention but Nate knew that it meant stay back.

Booth realized too late that he had made a mistake, Elliot couldn't get them out of this one and Bones was in danger. He had to find some way to get Bones down the hall and out of here. In his com he heard Nate say that they were on their way to the mansion, just in case. Then he heard Elliot growl again. Next he heard something that he didn't want to hear:

"Hello, I am Dr. Brennan," Bones had stepped out of the niche, hands raised.

'Stupid, stupid!' Booth wanted to face palm. Then one of the gunmen that were on Elliot shifted his gun to Bones. 'That's alota heart Bones,' this was not the first time Booth thought that.

This movement gave Elliot just enough time to launch forward again, taking out his gunman as Booth used the surprise to begin his own attack. Within ten seconds all three men were taken care of and Booth had a gun, Elliot still refused the weapon and instead went and helped B to her feet; she had ducked in the brawl.

"Let's go, Hardison showed me a door that leads out of the basement into another tunnel like at the office," Elliot had already started down the hall at a sprint, Booth caught up quickly and they were all three down into the basement before any of the crew in the van could say another word.

"Shit," Elliot pulled up short, holding his hands up, Bones followed suite and Booth dropped his acquired gun.

Waiting for them in the basement were at least ten armed men, and Conan McGill. They were royally screwed.

**Author's Note: What do you think! Oh, I feel that I should say this, Elliot doesn't hate Booth and no, Booth is not stupid: he just had a slight lapse in judgment. Personally, I actually think that Booth is actually even more bad ass (if that is possible) than Elliot.**

**Hey! Look at it! It's like right . . . . . . . . . . . .HERE! . . .push it, you know you want to!**


	21. Well This Sucks

**Author's Note: Here ya go! Another chappie!**

**Chapter 21: Well, This Sucks**

Booth and Elliot flinched. The men surrounding them all had guns leveled at their torsos. "Any more ideas?" Booth hissed, he reached back to take Bone's arm.

"Nothing comes to mind," Elliot did the same, glad that _his_ crew actually listened to him and stayed back. "If it was just the two of us I could come up with something . . ." this was muttered and only Booth heard, and the crew in his ear.

"Elliot, what is going on in there?" Nate was ignored.

From the left side of the group, Conan McGill pushed his way to the front. "Oh, Agent Booth," he tisked, "I had hoped that we could be friends here. And then you had to go and try to have me arrested. That's not nice Agent." His eyes cast to Elliot, "And you . . ." His mustache turned drastically down in a frown. "I remember you, Elliot Spencer, right. I should have recognized you to begin with." He looked him over, "You've gained some weight."

"I've been working out," Elliot shrugged, trying to slide Brennan further into the corner, so he and Booth could better shield her.

McGill "hrumph"ed, "Call it what you will. I really don't care; you will be out of my hair before long."

During the whole exchange, Brennan had been quiet, now the two men only wished she had stayed quiet. "You won't get away with this! I have a very good team working on this." She had a hand on Booth's shoulder and was leaning forward.

"Actually, he could get away with it," Elliot's voice was gruff, more so than he had intended. "I have a good team too and they haven't found us yet. No offence," he said over his shoulder.

"None taken," Brennan sat back down. She noticed that Booth was leaning harder against her and was breathing heavily.

"Hey, I take offence here!" It was Hardison in the van, down the street from the mansion. He knew they were in the basement but, if the number of men with guns in the basement was half the number of men Hardison had seen enter the building, Elliot was in trouble.

"Be quiet Hardison, you have work to do." This was Nate. "Elliot, keep him talking, we're trying to find some ways in. Or alarm codes to break so we can set them off. If we create a distraction will you be able to take them down?"

Elliot was having a hard time listening to two conversations at the same time; the only response he could give Nate was a growl. "I'll admit you did good." his interjection was timed just so that McGill stopped moving toward Booth.

"Of course I did," McGill sensed a trap here and so did not move _away_ from Booth, but stopped intending to shot him. "What is your point?"

"Everyone will know you did it," Elliot continued, "and not just my group," he pulled out his com and tossed it to McGill. "They've been listening to everything. Now, you can kill them (it won't be _too_ hard, there are only four) however, them?" He raised an eyebrow and pointed over his shoulder, "She's a famous writer and forensic anthro-whatever –"

"Anthropologist."

"Thank you, Bones," Booth grunted.

"You are welcome Booth."

"Whatever," Elliot continued, "and him? _com-on;_ he's a war hero and loved FBI agent. I'm telling you, people are gonna notice if they're gone . . ."

By now McGill had figured out what the com was for, "You bastard! You're the but!" He squished the communicator under the heel of his roach-killer; with a loud squeak, ending the rest of the team's hits as to the inside activities.

("Hardison," Nate said warningly.

"I'm hurrying!" he retorted.)

Elliot shrugged, "You're the one who captured me."

McGill shifted the gun to Elliot. Only Brennan's anthropologically trained eye noticed the hitters back and jaw tense. "What are you saying?" McGill was smiling.

Outside in the van, Nate's palms were beginning to itch; he had no communication and Hardison was getting nowhere. Even the usually cool Parker was shaking.

"I have to go in," she exclaimed.

"No Parker, you aren't going anywhere!" Nate was much harsher than he intended to be.

Just as Sophie made to step in as the Ego, it happened.

The first gunshot from the basement caused all four of them to freeze. Almost immediately after, much more rapid gunfire ensued, ending any thoughts of going in after the hostages. After a few minutes, fire ceased.

Sophie was the first to hit her knees in a silent wail, shaking hand held to her mouth. Parker was frozen in her seat and Hardison cursed, hitting the keyboard.

Nate was silent.

"If I had been faster," Hardison's voice was the first to break the silence but still and yet, it was hardly more than a whisper.

The gravity of the situation hit Parker, "Elliot . . ."

Sophie sobbed.

Hardison cursed.

Nate was silent . . .

**END SCENE!!**

**(Authors Note: **_**CLIFF HANGER!!!**_** "What will she do next?" "Will Elliot, Booth and Brennan survive?" "Will the team ever recover?" and "WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THE FRIGGIN' BASEMENT!?" All of your questions will be answered after you review and in the next and final installment of **_**The Seeley Booth Job**_**!**


	22. Silence Of The Storm

**Chapter 22: Silence of the Storm**

**(Authors Note: Thanks to my reviewers and ON WITH THE SHOW!)**

_Last time on __**The Seeley Booth Job**_: The first gunshot from the basement was followed by many more, Sophie hit her knees in a silent wail, Parker froze, Hardison cursed, Nate remained silent . . .

Things in the fan remained the same. In fact, it was only when Nate made a decision that anything changed at all.

"We have to leave, no one has left the building and we're too close."

"NO!" Sophie managed, "We have to go in there and get Elliot," she lunged for the door, Parker and Hardison following without hesitation.

A few feet from the van Nate caught her by the elbow, "Wait!"

The door to the mansion was opening and someone was coming out.

Breath froze in the four.

The person was large, male, long hair with an extra arm draped around his neck. He wore a plaid shirt and the owner of the arm was in a suite, other arm draped over a woman.

Last to react before, now Parker was the first, "Elliot! It's Elliot! and Agent Booth, Temperance!"

Booth was shot and suspended between the other two, who were, themselves, eaten. The groups met up halfway and Parker (blushing) and Hardison took the burden of Booth, leaving Elliot and Brennan to sink to the ground, exhausted.

"Nice job saving the day," Elliot said between gasps.

Brennan was out of breath as well, "I disagree. I don't believe that is the kind of saving Booth normally does. He usually is much more active and hands-on."

Nate couldn't help but laugh and Sophie draped her arms around Elliot's neck and began to sop into his shoulder, almost sitting in his lap. He awkwardly patted her back and made eye contact with Nate.

"What the hell happened in there?"

_"What are you saying?" McGill was smiling._

_ Ellito leaned forward, elbow on his knee, "I'm not 'saying' anything, merely asking: can you take out the entire FBI? I'm sure these two won't talk and me? Hell, you could buy me off with less than one tenth of what you make in a week." McGill was listening: Elliot was trying to buy time, and running a hail-Mary. "How about this –" _

_ A gunshot interrupted him and Conan McGill, a grotesque look on his face, slid to his knees and then onto his face. Standing behind him, gun still poised and smoking was MaryLee McGill. "Take that Daddy."_

_ This caused a moment of confusion that persisted long enough for Elliot to knock out a guard and take his gun, tossing it to Brennan in time to spin into another, easily overpowering him and taking the gun as well. _

_ As soon as the remaining guards caught on a firefight ensued. Elliot was moving too fast to hit, keeping the heat off of Booth and Brennan (she really hadn't improved in her shot over the years but did manage to hit one man in the knee), he kept low and quickly took out the guards one by one._

_ "He is good Booth," Bones hissed as Elliot faced off against the last guard._

_ Elliot raised an eyebrow, giving a "bring it on" gesture with his free arm. The man began shaking and Elliot sighed, closing the gap between them and hitting him over the head with the butt of the gun. This was not before the man, in all his shaking, pulled the trigger, the bullet just grazing Elliot's side._

_ He ignored the pain and looked up at MaryLee. "What the hell?"_

Just as Elliot finished his tale the red-head appeared in the doorway of the mansion, a gun dropped limply to her side. The team turned to look at her, and she blushed heavily, the hard look she had worn in the basement turning to one of concern. "Elliot," the gun dropped to the steps as she rushed off the porch and to Elliot's side, "I tried to keep him out, I did but . . ."

It was at this point that Nate and the others realized that Elliot had planned another con completely without him. Time for that later, they could tell by the sirens that the little gun show in the basement had not gone unnoticed.

"Ya'll had better get out of here," Booth grunted, lifting himself off of Hardison and Parker. The girl wrestled with the idea to take his knees out but she resisted. (Hardison noticed and made a mental note to give her a cookie later.)

Sophie pulled herself off Elliot long enough to dry her eyes, "You're letting us go?" MaryLee helped the hitter to his feet.

"Of course he is," now Brennan had Booth, "that man very well just saved our lives. And her," she pointed from Elliot to MaryLee, "she helped a lot." Because Elliot was within arm's reach she reached out and touched his arm.

Nate clasped his hand on Booth's shoulder and motioned his men to follow him back to the van. "Agent Booth, you are forever in our debt. If you ever need any help with a case or anything, we're here."

Booth grinned, "Yeah, doubt that but sure. I'll give you a call." Nate knew he wouldn't but that didn't mean that he felt any more indebted to him.

**Author's Note: Okay guys, in a fit of boredom I finished up the fic but be sure to read the last chapter!**


	23. Tying Up Lose Ends

**Author's Note: Here we go! The twist ending! Enjoy and please review!**

**Chapter 23: Tying Up Loose Ends**

As with so many times before, Elliot and MaryLee sat in the diner, a booth away, Brennan and Booth sat, Nate and Sophie were both sitting at the bar. Hardison was, again, by himself and Parker and Sweets had ensconced themselves in the broom closet . . . Elliot was _not_ going to go there again.

Booth looked around at the new friends they had made, "You know what, Bones, this really wasn't too bad of an idea. We'll have to invite them all to DC sometime."

"Yes, and if Dr. Sweets relationship with Parker continues then I am sure that they would come," Brennan was glancing back toward the closet where Parker and Sweets had just tumbled out. "It was fun to be bad, Booth." She twirled a french-fry and popped it into her mouth, "You know, just this once."

"Good Bones, just don't make a habit of it."

No one was really paying attention to Elliot and MaryLee until the girl suddenly stood up and squealed. "Of course I will!" Elliot took her up in a tight hug. The fluorescent lights of the diner glinted off of something on her left hand.

Parker was pouting as she loaded her bag into the trunk of the car, then slid into the back seat. "I don't like this, it just doesn't feel right leaving Elliot. I miss him . . ."

Nate was behind the wheel, "I know Parker but he's made up his mind. He's going to be marrying MaryLee and we have to just stay out of his way." The truth was that Nate didn't like this any more than Parker, he just hid it better.

Actually, no one wanted to leave Elliot behind but as the car was put into drive and began rolling down the road there would be no going back.

**Author's Note: Yeah, short I know! Hope you enjoyed!**


	24. The Real Final Chapter!

**The **_**Real**_** Final Chapter!**

**Author's Note: PSYKE! Wow, ya'll are gullible! Why would I marry off Elliot? Ha ha, enjoy this **_**real**_** final chapter to The Seeley Booth Job!**

"Wait!"

The voice was faint but Parker heard it, and turned around just in time to see Elliot running down the road after them, a meager back pack slung over his shoulder. "Stop the car Nate!" Parker sat up on her knees like a kid and waved out the window.

Not knowing what else to do, Nate slowed down, and then he saw Elliot in the rearview mirror.

The man quickly closed the distance between himself and the car and then threw his pack into the open door, falling in behind and slamming it shut.

"What's going on Elliot, what about MaryLee?" Sophie asked.

Elliot was flushed, whether it was exertion or something else (like aggravation) the team couldn't tell but his response was growled. "Just drive!"

**Author's Note: Just a little fun paragraph to wrap up the story. I'm thinking about doing a sequel but can't decide. Any ideas or suggestions, even if you hated to story, let me know! Also . . . PUSH THE DARN BUTTON BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME!**


	25. THE SEQUEL IS HERE! YAY!

**The Seeley Booth Job**

It's finally here peoples! The sequel! Follow my link and review please!

.net/s/6289612/1/The_Elliot_Spencer_Job


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